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ELEMENTS 



OF 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



DESIGNED FOR 



A TEXT-BOOK AND FOE PRIVATE READING. 



y BY 

HUBBAKD WINSLOW, A.M. 

OF BOSTON. 

AUTHOR OF PHILOSOPHICAL TRACTS, SOCIAL AND CIVIL DUTIES, YOUNG MAN'S AID, 
CHRISTIAN DOCTRINES, ETC. 



&ilo(jocpi(x Biov Kv8eQV7]T7jg. 



BOSTON : •£ 
CROCKER AND BREWSTER, 

47 Washington Street. 
1850. 



5n rt* * 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 

BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 






INTRODUCTION 



A book on Intellectual Philosophy, should not only furnish 
lessons, but elicit inquiry, excite the reasoning powers, enkindle original 
thought, and guide to well-formed independent conclusions. Dogma- 
tism, always odious, is particularly so upon a subject of this nature. He 
who sets our minds upon a track of successful inquiry, does a more 
valuable service than he who puts authoritatively forth the stereotype 
lessons of the schools. All who have had valuable experience in teach- 
ing, will agree, also, that a great book is ordinarily a great evil. A 
text-book, especially, should be mostly filled with " the seeds of things." 
These thoughts have been much in my mind, while preparing the 
following pages ; — to what effect, others must judge. 

Briefly to exhibit the most important principles of Intellectual Phi- 
losophy, as acknowledged by the best authorities, in language as plain 
and free from technicalities as possible ; to elicit free inquiry, and give 
reasons for differing from others, in cases of dissent ; to show wherein 
the human powers transcend those of the animal, and to point out their 
relations to Christianity ; to trace the mental phenomena, so far as 
present science conducts, to their physical source ; finally, to adapt 
the subject both to the popular and the educated mind, — are the 
leading objects of this volume. 

This subject encounters several popular objections, of which the 
following are the most prominent : — Want of confidence in it, result- 
ing from differences of opinion among its professed teachers ; the 
abstruse and scholastic manner in which it has been often discussed ; 
the violence which it has sometimes offered to common sense ; and the 
absence of any perceived connection between it and the practical in- 
terests of life. These objections can here receive but a passing- 
notice. 

Differences of opinion cannot impair the value of the truths to which 
they relate. Indeed, the most valuable truths often come to light 
amidst the conflict of opinions. But many of the differences now in 
question, are more apparent than real. Some of them are resolvable 
into mere logomachies. Such terms as " innate," " idea," " original," 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

" reason," have occasioned volumes of controversy. Such controver- 
sies are upon the mere surface ; they do not disturb the vital truths 
of mental science. Writers have differed, also, respecting the number 
of the mental powers, some, like Kaims and Reid, allowing many ; 
others, like Hartley and Brown, allowing only a few. Now the mind is 
one. The powers of the mind, are only the mind's ability or propen- 
sity to perform certain acts. When we speak of attention, perception, 
abstraction, memory, as mental powers, we only mean to say, that the 
mind can attend, perceive, abstract, remember : — one and the same 
intellee^ exerts itself in these several ways. Strictly speaking, the pow- 
ers of the mind are as numerous as its acts. Classification of the mental 
powers is then a mutual convenience, for the interchange of thought ; 
and the fact that some philosophers adopt more than others, is no more 
an objection to mental philosophy, than the fact that some merchants 
pack their goods in larger boxes than others, is an objection to mer- 
chandise. Yet the question, whether a power is constitutional, or 
acquired, is of considerable interest ; as it involves other questions, 
touching the true end and right culture of the mind. Nor must it be 
supposed, that the classification of the mental phenomena is merely a 
conventional arrangement, having no foundation in nature. Psycho- 
logical facts, as well as all other things in creation, are so related to 
each other, as to form a natural basis for a scientific classification. 

To avoid circumlocution, writers often use the same word in different 
senses. Thus, perception may denote either the power of perceiving, 
or the act of perceiving, or the idea obtained by the act. Physical 
taste may denote the power of tasting, or the act of tasting, or the 
quality of the thing tasted, or the effect on the sense. The taste of an 
orange may indicate a quality in the fruit, independently of its being 
tasted, or that quality as experienced by him who tastes it. The former 
is called the objective use of the term, the latter the subjective. By 
carefully observing in which sense terms are used, we reconcile many 
apparent differences, and find the work of mental analysis less per- 
plexing than is usually supposed. 

It must be conceded, that mental philosophers have too often written 
in an abstruse and scholastic manner. They have employed strange 
words, learned definitions, abstruse arguments, when those more obvi- 
ous might have been used. They have done this, not to appear pro- 
found, nor to cover ignorance with mysticism, but because they have 
written only for the more highly educated, or have not duly considered 
the capacities of their readers. This, however, is no valid objection to 



INTRODUCTION. 

the subject itself, and should only stimulate our endeavors, both to un- 
derstand it ourselves, and to render it plain to others. 

But even after the writer has done the best he can to be understood, 
his object may be defeated by the reader. He who would read a book 
on this subject as he would a novel, has mistaken his business. He 
must address himself to it as a labor, not as a pastime. He must pause, 
and converse much with his own experience and reflections ; he must 
compare with them what he reads. The rapid and superficial manner 
in which most reading is now done, peculiarly unfits the mind for the 
investigation of grave subjects. The remark often quoted from Cicero, 
that the human mind is like the eye, which sees every thing but itself, 
relates to the difficulty of demonstrating facts not cognizable by the 
senses. When the chemist analyzes a glass of water, our eyes tell us, 
at once, into what parts he resolves it. But when the philosopher 
analyzes the human mind, we must refer to our personal experience 
for the facts in question, and are liable to mistake his meaning. 
Hence, this is a peculiarly difficult subject, upon which to write intel- 
ligibly. On none ought the reader to exercise more caution, reflection, 
patience. 

To the objection, that philosophy sometimes contradicts common 
sense, assuming that it is wiser to trust the latter than the former, I 
reply, if by common sense be meant the mere vulgar apprehension, 
irrespective of inquiry and reflection, sound philosophy must needs 
sometimes contradict it. The great principles of truth lie below the 
surface. The celestial orbs roll in their paths, not as the vulgar mind 
apprehends, but as searching science demonstrates. In most of the 
natural sciences, principles are reached only by a process of experi- 
ment and induction beyond the reach of many minds. But if by 
common sense be meant, the sober sentiment of mankind in general, 
relating to subjects which they examine and understand, the above 
objection has weight. Every person is constantly making experiments 
upon his own mind, and may thus learn its powers and propensities. 
He needs books, not so much to teach him the mental faculties, as to 
inform him how to designate and classify them, how to improve them, 
and to what ends to apply them. Hence, common sense has here an im- 
portant service. Her sober decisions are of the highest authority, 
and no philosophy can permanently stand against them. The philoso- 
phy of the human mind is not truly taught by bewildering abstrac- 
tions and scholastic refinements, much less by bold hypotheses and 
doubtful speculations, but by a simple and plain exposition of the 
1* 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

mental facts, leaving the reader, for the proof of them, to his own experi- 
ence and reflection. As all minds are cast in the same mould of 
humanity, he who thus studies his own mind, becomes acquainted with 
those of the whole human race. He is a mental philosopher. 

The alleged want of a perceived connection between mental philoso- 
phy and the practical interests of life, is more relevant to writers of 
continental Europe, than to those of Great Britain and America. The 
former are the more contemplative ; the latter the more practical. It 
is desirable to combine the two. The deep, rich under-current of 
thought and emotion, which habits of profound contemplation tend to 
produce, gives great strength and beauty to the mental character. In- 
deed, it is only the contemplative man, that is in the true sense a phi- 
losopher. Still it must be acknowledged, that even the English and 
Scotch authors, notwithstanding their strong utilitarian tendencies, have 
failed to make sufficiently prominent the practical bearings of this sub- 
ject. It sustains a most important relation to our highest interests as 
social, moral and religious beings, which no effort should be wanting 
to render obvious. 

The study of man as a physical being has perhaps, also, in this 
connection, received too little attention. The metaphysical has been 
kept too widely apart from the physical. They unite in the same 
being ; the spiritual beginning where the physical ends, and carry- 
ing out the same wise design. We trace the operations of matter 
so far as we can ; all beyond we refer to spirit. The facts of the 
physical philosophy of man thus underlie those of mental philosophy, 
and their relation to it should be carefully examined. Yet I am far 
from believing, that a sound and entire system of mental science can 
ever be erected upon a mere physical basis. It has been said, with per- 
haps too much assurance, that " if we are to have a correct philosophy 
of the human mind, it must come from physicians." The true philoso- 
pher of the mental, must study also the physical, in man ; but if he 
study only the latter, I am afraid that it will cost him more than one 
life-time, to educe from nerves, brains, fibres, tissues, ganglia, and vital 
fluids, a perfect system of mental philosophy. 

Let anatomy carry its dissecting process to the extreme limit of 
possibilities, minutely tracing the nervous fibril of each muscle to its 
termination in the cerebral mass ; — let surgery thrust its glittering 
blade into the living flesh, and search, amid palpitating muscles and 
throbbing nerves, for the pathological phenomena, in their most hidden 
.retreats; — let physiology appropriate each demonstrated fibre for its 



INTRODUCTION. / 

sensitive and motor functions ; let it diligently pursue the wonderful 
movements of life, as it outspeeds the lightning in its courses around 
and through the human frame, until it escapes and is there no more ; 
let it place itself as near as possible to the " mechanism of thought," and 
claim to possess " the narrow isthmus which unites the luminous and 
mental way ; " — let phrenology next come forth, to fix the seat of con- 
sciousness in the sensorium, explain how impulses are communicated 
to the mind from without, and sent forth from the mind by the motor 
nerves to the muscles, through the nervo-galvanic circuits of the brain ; 
let it even definitely indicate the organ of every mental faculty, and 
take its precise " guage and dimensions ; " — finally, let ethereopathy 
come to the service ; let it hypothesize the existence of an all-pervading 
etherium, by which bodies and minds act upon each other ; let it show 
how the human mind, like the magnet, may, by this etherium, 
pierce through solid masses, may send forth its impulse and even its 
vision, to distant beings and things, — let it thus reveal, if possible, the 
mysteries of a supposed clairvoyance : — all these may serve to throw 
valuable light upon mental philosophy, and the metaphysician should 
avail himself of them ; — still, we ere long reach the inevitable point, 
where neither one nor all of them avail ; — where we must take naked 
facts as they rise up, unexplained, from the spirit- world. Those who 
make no account of physical inquiries, on the one hand, and those who 
admit nothing but what they explain, on the other, are alike in fault. 
Let them proceed together. What neither can do alone, they may 
unitedly accomplish. Let them bring their respective offerings to the 
same altar. All their demonstrations may yet be seen to harmonize, and 
to confirm each other. Such an event would be a beautiful triumph 
of truth. That investigations of a subject so profound, commenced 
at opposite points, and pursued by ways so different, should finally 
reach the same conclusions, would not be unlike those sublime triumphs 
in astronomy, won by the united demonstrations of the calculus and of 
the telescope. 

No person of taste can be indifferent to the ornaments of style. In- 
deed, in some works, they are indispensable ; — success depends upon 
them. But in a work like this, the writer must strive, mainly, to be 
understood. If ornament is sometimes sacrificed to perspicuity, some 
indulgence is expected. Few are aware how difficult it is, to write on 
subjects of this nature, in language intelligible to all, without using the 
same words, more frequently, and sometimes adopting more familiar 
illustrations, than a refined literary taste would dictate. I am sorry to be 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

obliged to add, in this connection, that a few verbal inaccuracies 
upon the proof sheets escaped detection. It is some satisfaction to 
know, that they cannot trouble the reader so much as they mortify 
the author. As they do not affect the sense, I will not further disfigure 
the book with an errata, but will venture to promise, that, should 
the work ever see a second edition, they will disappear. 

That the philosophy of the mind should constitute a part of the study 
of every person, is undeniable. Some have thought it too elevated a 
subject, however, for youth at school. It ought, undoubtedly, to be one 
of the later in course, but should never be finally omitted. Every 
youth of decent attainments, under the guidance of a suitable teacher, 
is competent to understand its most essential truths ; and unless he 
studies it at school, he ordinarily never does. Lighter reading, amuse- 
ments, business, passing events, engross his attention. He accordingly 
goes through life ignorant of even the terms, which define the powers 
and operations of his mind. When he hears or reads them, they convey 
to him no distinct meaning ; when he employs them, he does not defi- 
nitely know what he says. He listens to lectures, addresses, sermons, 
relating to philosophy, morals and religion, under serious disadvantages. 
Sometimes, an entire argument or illustration hinges on a single term, 
of which he is ignorant. No defining dictionary can supply the place 
of that clear and enlarged knowledge of terms, which is obtained by a 
thorough and systematic study of the subject to which they relate. 

When we further consider, that the mind is to live forever ; that, for- 
saken of the world, it is soon to be thrown upon its personal resources, 
and that its present training is preparatory to its future welfare, — 
those clear and earnest views of its powers, duties and destinies, which 
this study affords, appear to be of the highest importance. To all who 
are invested with the high and responsible office of teaching, I would 
therefore most respectfully and earnestly say, — inspire your pupils with 
a taste/or this ennobling study ; secure in them a fondness for it, while 
they are yet under your culture ; arouse them to a wakeful conscious- 
ness of their powers, and to a stirring sense of their responsibilities ; 
teach them to define and trace the operations of their minds, and 
to refer them to their appropriate objects, — you will thus lay the 
foundation and form the habits, favorable to an enduring progress in 
true knowledge. The study of the human mind, thus auspiciously 
commenced, prepares the way for the most sublime and glorious of all 
knowledge — the science of god and eternal life. 

H. W. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Life. Atheistic theory. Phenomena of Life. Vegetable life. Ani- 
mal life. Rational life. When life becomes rational and immortal. 
Existence of the soul not dependent on the body. The soul pre- 
cedes the body, 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Difference between Men and Animals. Difference between 
the vegetable and the animal : — Between the animal and man ; 
erectness of position ; covering ; head and face ; hands ; organs of 
speech ; digestive functions, 26 

CHAPTER III. 
Instinct. Definition of instinct. Distinction between instinct and 
reason. Examples of instinct ; bees ; butterflies ; spiders ; fishes 
and amphibious animals ; barn-fowls, 36 

CHAPTER IV. 
Nature of the Human Mind. Definition of the mind. Its crea- 
tion ; essence ; the limits of our knowledge of it ; its properties ; 
immateriality ; personal identity, 45 

CHAPTER V. 

Immortality of the Human Mind. Why its immortality is 
doubted. Its mortality cannot be proved. The materiality of the 
mind could not prove it mortal. Argument for its immortality 
from its immateriality. How much this argument proves. Natural 
immortality of the mind. Eirst revelation of our immortality ; 
posthumous reputation ; graspings of the mind ; the idea of im- 
mortality universal; opinions of pagan philosophers; the mind's 
essential independence of the body. Proof from the Script cjres ; 
Old Testament — New. This a cheering truth. Eternal growth 

of the mind, 53 

CHAPTER VI. 

Origin of Human Knowledge. Theory of innate ideas. Theory 
of Locke. What Locke meant by " idea." Views of Aristotle and 
others. Malebranche. Present view. Present state of the ques- 
tion respecting the origin of knowledge. Different kinds of ideas ; 

simple and complex, » . .66 

CHAPTER VII. 

Primary Knowledge. The Senses. Smell; often defective^ 
knowledge of odors by this sense ; varieties of odor great. Sense 
of Taste. Knowledge of flavors by this sense. Seldom wanting. 
Varieties of flavors. The taste competent to all. Hearing... 
Knowledge of sounds by this sense. Objections. This view sus- 
tained by facts. Variety of sounds, 79 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Sense of Touch. Not identical with that of temperature. Resist- 
ance learned by this sense. Magnitude; form; distance; hardness 
and softness. Sight. The knowledge of colors only by the eye. 
No other knowledge by this sense. Figure r . distance, magnitude, 
not learned by sight. Education of this sense. Compensation 92 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Additional Senses. Sense of temperature. Weariness and fa- 
tigue. Pleasure and pain. Appetite, 102 

CHAPTER X. 

Sensation. Sensation defined. The mind the agent in sensation. 
How sensations are known. All ideas by sensation cognitions. 
Physiological view of sensation. Nerves and brain. The seat of 
sensibility not exclusively in the head. Sensation not simple. 
How objects act on the organs of sense. These organs are stimu- 
lated. Sensations are local. Objection to this view. Cases cited 
by Reid. Philosophy and experience, 107 

CHAPTER XL 

Improvement op Sensations. The organs susceptible of culture. 
How they may be improved. How the sensations may be improved. 
Improvement of the sensation of smell j of taste ; of hearing ; of 
touch ; of sight. Summary, 121 

CHAPTER XII. 
Perception. Defined. Intuitive perception. Mutual relations of 
sensation and perception. Distinction between sensation and per- 
ception. Entities and non-entities. Objective and subjective 
entities. True perceptions. — Examples. False perceptions. — 
Examples. How we may know whether our perceptions are true. 
Physical entities known by contact. Each entity originally known 
by its appropriate sense. May also be known by other senses. How 
the organs of sense are tested. How the media of perception are 
tested. How the sanity of the mind is tested. Perception pre- 
supposes attention. Process of perception, 135 

CHAPTER XIII. 
Conception. Conception of speculative truths. Further application 
of the term. Distinction between conception and memory ; be- 
tween conception and imagination. Vividness of conceptions. In- 
fluence of association on conception. Influence of attention on 
conception. Conception of musical sounds. Influence of habit on 
conceptions of sight; of musical sounds. Conception subservient 
to description. Facts in proof. Is conception attended with belief'? 
Cases of supposed belief? Cases of real belief. Views of Reid. 
Cases of permanent belief. Conception giving life to inanimate 
objects. False conception from imperfect perception ; from ex- 
cited anticipation. Protracted false conception. Uses of conception, 149 

CHAPTER XIV. 
Primary Rational Knowledge. The inquiry confined to strict 
knowledge. Diversity of views on this point. Materialism. Trans- 
cendentalism. Classification of the mental powers. Brown's clas- 
sification. Upham's original suggestion. Objections to it. The 
rational powers of primary knowledge, 164 

CHAPTER XV. 
Intuition. Reasons for thus using the term. Mathematical 
axioms. Moral axioms. Metaphysical axioms. Intuitive propo- 
sitions ; terms, 1 73 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Consciousness. Refers to entities. Subjects of consciousness. 
Remarks upon it, 186 



CONTENTS. 11 

CHAPTER XVH. 
Secondary Knowledge, Primary and secondary ideas. Atten- 
tion ; denned. Attention in brutes. Nature of this mental act. 
How to secure fixedness of attention. Result. Example. Pro- 
found attention characteristic of great minds. Absent-mindedness 
no mark of greatness. Divided attention. Hartley's theory. Ob- 
jections to it. How it arose. Relation of attention to religion, ... .191 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Association. In brutes. Laws of association. How controlled. 
Circumstances affecting it. Its influence on science and the arts ; 
on speculative philosophy ; on love of money ; on fashion ; on 
taste and general character ; on morals 5 on religion, 203 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Memory. An ultimate power. Reasons for so considering it. In 
brutes. Universal. Circumstances affecting it; temperament; 
philosophical arrangement; habits of detail; vocation; disease; 
characteristics of a good memory, 217 

CHAPTER XX. 

Memory Continued. Culture of memory. Committing to memory. 
Committing to paper. Artificial memory. Relation to religion, . . . 228 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Distinguishing Powers of the Human Intellect. Chain of 
degrees. Wherein men and brutes are alike. Dominion of man. 
What constitutes his power and dominion. Likeness of the human 

to the divine intellect, 237 

CHAPTER XXIL 

Abstraction. Importance of it. Illustration. Its relation to ma- 
thematics 5 to the physical arts. Right use of it. Relation to religion, . 244 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Classification. Defined. Genera and species. An original prin- 
ciple. Incorrect classification. This a distinguishing attribute. 
Science dependent upon it ; also the learned professions. Relation 
to religion. Summary, .....•• 251 

CHAPTER XXIV. 
Induction. Origin of belief in an established order of events. In- 
duction a distinguishing attribute. Its various purposes. Relation 
to religion. Furnishes the test of wisdom. Improvement of the 

inductive faculty, 261 

CHAPTER XXV. 
Reason. Definition. Propositions; hypothetical and declarative; 
need not be formally stated. Order of propositions. Mathematical 
leasoning ; its distinguishing nature, 270 

CHAPTER XXVL 

Moral Reasoning. Its peculiarities. Its results may be certain. 
What constitutes a good reason. Reasoning as distinguishing men 
from brutes. The human mind progressive, 278 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Judgment. Distinguished from reason. Ground for the distinction. 
Definition of judgment. Views of Locke and Cousin ; of Reid ; 
of Stewart. Remarks upon them. Views of Brown. Importance 
of a sound judgment. Characteristics of a sound judgment, 287 



12 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Imagination. An ultimate faculty. Stewart's illustration. Re- 
marks upon it. Simple acts of imagination. Not confined to 
objects of' sense. May be wholly creative. Creative in part. De- 
scriptive ; poetic. Subservient to elegant composition ; to elo- 
quence ; to the fine arts ; to science, • 299 

CHAPTER XXIX. 
Imagination belated to Morals and Religion. Perverted. 
Inordinate love of wealth. Love of power and fame. Youth in 
cities. Vicious literature. Imagination rightly employed. Disci- 
pline of the imagination. Works of imagination ; how they should 
be studied. Concluding remarks, 311 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Dreaming. Mental activity may be entirely suspended. What 
faculties are most active in dreaming. The laws of association 
continue in dreams. Suspension of the will. Reasoning in sleep. 
Dreams appear realities. Imperfect estimate of time and space in 
dreams. They recall things forgotten. Dreams from bodily sen- 
sations. Are dreams ever prophetic ? No new simple ideas in 

dreams. Concluding remarks, 323 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Insanity. Wherein dreaming and insanity are alike. Wherein they 
differ. Monomania. Origin and progress of insanity. Peculiar 
character of insanity. Causes; hereditary tendency; vice; novel 
reading; overworking the brain ; religious melancholy. Prevention,. 337 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Mesmerism. Opinions of scientific men. What mesmerism claims 
to do. Conditions of producing the mesmerized state. Effects 
on the patient; coma; somnambulism; exaltation of the senses ; 
method of inducing somnambulism ; theories of clairvoyance. Re- 
marks on the subject, 347 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Suspended Animation. Apparent death. How to determine 
whether a person is really dead. A case of apparent death. Re- 
marks upon it. Concluding remarks, 360 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 
Trance. Definition of it. Trance of Rev. William Tennent. Re- 
marks upon it, as a psychological and religious phenomenon, 367 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Philosophical Schools. Origin of philosophy. Plato and Aris- 
totle. Systems of philosophy of slow growth. Leading peculiari- 
ties of the schools. Names of them. Morelle's classification. 
Objections to it. Scepticism and mysticism. Eclecticism. Con- 
clusion, 837 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

TnE German School. Des Cartes. Spinoza. Malcbranche. Leib- 
nitz and Wolf. Kant. Effects of Kant's writings. Other philoso- 
phers of this school. Victor Cousin. Remarks upon this school,- -388 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 
The British School. Aristotle. Bacon. Locke. Sceptical 
results. Berkeley. Reid. Stewart. Brown. Other writers. 
Present state of this school, .402 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



CHAPTER I. 
LIFE. * 

Respecting the mysterious power or principle which we 
call Life, there have been various speculations. Some 
have identified it with caloric, meaning by the term, not 
heat, but the cause of heat. Heat is an effect, of which 
caloric, acting through a material substance, is the cause. 
That caloric is concerned in the processes of vegetable and 
animal life, is clearly certain ; but it seems equally clear 
that all the effects produced by life, cannot be referred to 
the mere action of caloric. This will appear evident, as 
we shall notice the peculiar operations of the vital principle. 
But even if it could be shown that life is caloric, the ques- 
tion returns, what is caloric? All we have gained is an 
exchange of names. 

THE ATHEISTIC THEORY. 

Some atheistic theorists have considered Life, and what 
we call Mind or Spirit, the same thing, and to be nothing 
more than the heat or agitation, resulting from the action 
of caloric on elementary atoms. To this cause they would 

* Although the subject of this chapter is not strictly a part of Intel- 
lectual Philosophy, its relations to it are such as to claim for it a brief 
notice in this connection. 

2 



14 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

refer all the wonders of wisdom and goodness in the living 
creation ! " There is nothing," says the learned Cudworth, 
" in fire and flame, or a kindred body, different from other 
bodies, but only the motion or mechanism and fancy of it. 
And, therefore, it is but a crude conceit, which the atheists 
and corporalists of former times have been always so fond 
of, that souls are nothing but fiery or flammeous bodies. 
For though heat in the bodies of animals be a necessary 
instrument for the soul and life to act by in them, yet it is a 
thing really distinct from life ; and a red-hot iron hath not, 
therefore, any nearer approximation to life than it had 
before, nor the flame of a candle than the extinguished 
snuff or tallow of it ; the difference between them being 
only in the agitation of the insensible parts." * Thales, on 
the other hand, and the disciples of his school, supposed 
the principle of all life to reside in water. 

It was, doubtless, from observing the important uses of 
heat and water in the processes of organized life, that men 
were led to such theories. 



LIFE WIDELY DIFFUSED. 

Matter may be either inert or animated, dead or alive. 
But life is more widely diffused through the material world 
than is generally supposed. Indeed, some philosophers, 
both of ancient and modern schools, have considered every 
atom of matter instinct with life. Such was one of the 
conceits of the ancient atomic theory, which made every 
atom a living thing. A modern writer on Dynamical Physi- 
ology says, "The elements of dust are the elements of life; 
for there is no substance, however inert or passive its atoms 
may be, whose combinations are not governed by a force 
common to all vital structures. The very debris of the soul, 
that lies mouldering in the grave, moved only by the worm, 
has generated the force that moves it, and testifies that all 
matter is vital, and ever ready to animate all other atoms 
with which it comes in contact, with a higher degree of life. 

* Intellectual System of the Universe, Vol. L, p. 108. 



LIFE. 15 

Death is but a comparative term, — in a world where there 
is nothing fixed but change, death has no reality." * 

That ingenious and observing minds should have adopted 
such sweeping theories, is accounted for only by the fact 
that life is so eminently all-pervading. Wherever we look, 
whether with the microscope or with the unaided eye, we 
see life everywhere at work. Still, there is a state of mat- 
ter, in which it is subject only to the laws of gravitation, 
chemistry, and mechanical forces. This we call a state of 
inertia. There is another state, in which it passes from 
under their sovereignty, and becomes subject to the dominion 
of a higher power, which we call Life. 

Life is not itself an intelligent being, nor is it of itself 
intelligent ; for the vegetable has life, without intelligence. 
But life sustains intelligent beings, as truly as vegetables. 
It is a power imparted by God, the source of all life, sus- 
taining alike the vegetable, animal, and rational creations. 
All hold it at his pleasure ; when he withdraws it, by what- 
ever means, they cease to be. 



PHENOMENA OF LIFE. 

Although entirely ignorant of the essence of life, we 
know something of its phenomena. If we cannot tell 
what it is, we can tell what it does. It would be out of 
place here to discuss the subject of dynamics, but some 
notice of the phenomena of life will assist our inquiries 
respecting the nature and relations of the human mind. 
Of the effects of life upon matter, or the particulars in 
which matter alive differs from matter dead, we observe 
the following. 

1. Living matter is organized. It is formed into a 
union of parts, each contributing to sustain all the others. 
The organism becomes more simple, the lower we descend 
on the scale of living things ; still it exists, and, so far as 
we can trace with the microscope, the line of demarkation 
is everywhere the same between living and dead matter. 

* Laws of Causation, p. 81. 



16 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A marble statue is not alive, for each part is independent 
of all the others. Take off the head, and the rest remains 
as before. Not so with a living being : — the removal of 
any part, more or less affects the whole. While a tree is 
alive, the excision or mutilation of a single branch produces 
some effect upon the whole tree; — when the tree is dead, it 
may be hacked into a thousand pieces, without producing 
any effect excepting what is merely mechanical. 

Life, then, as related to matter, is an organizing power : 
It lays hold of ultimate atoms, establishes mutual relations 
between them, and unites them in a bond of common 
interest. 

2. When matter thus comes under the power of life, it is 
perpetually changing. The effect of life upon its sub- 
ject is, to cause a continuous removal of matter, and to 
supply its place by the introduction of other matter. 

When the matter introduced exceeds in quantity the 
matter removed, the subject is said to grow. Physiologists 
have shown, that the substance of a living human body is 
ordinarily thus changed once in about seven years ; but a 
marble statue may stand for thousands of years, and, through 
the whole period, its substance will remain essentially un- 
changed. Whatever of change is ever effected in it, is the 
result of chemical and mechanical agencies, not of life. 

The manner in which the change produced by life is effected, 
varies with the subject. The plant, by its roots and leaves, 
absorbs those elements which its nature demands ; while by 
its exhalations and deposition of withered leaves and branches, 
it rids itself of what is no longer wanted. Thus it may be 
said, in its own way, to eat, drink, breathe, and perform all 
the offices of life. With the animal, some voluntary move- 
ment must subserve the vital. The food must be volunta- 
rily consigned to its place, or the vital principle cannot 
reach it. 

3. Every species of organized life has the power of 
self-propagation. The law of reproduction extends alike 
through all the vegetable and animal creations. No lump 
of dead matter produces any thing, from which another 
lump, like itself, is formed. But in the flower of the 
vegetable is a globular fluid, which, as the flower matures 



LIFE. 17 

and dies, becomes gradually hardened, and is finally ejected 
from the parent plant, to furnish the germ of another plant 
like its parent. And thus does every species of organized 
life, animal as well as vegetable, perpetuate its own. 

Nothing that lives begins to be, by a mere chemical or 
mechanical combination of its parts. It springs into being, 
and grows, by virtue of an embodying vitality, of which the 
parent, under God, is the occasion. This principle of 
vitality is coeval with the first embryotic existence, and 
forms the organized body. The various members of an 
automaton are formed, before they are united and made to 
operate ; they are then moved by some foreign poiver ; — 
but the various members of a human body are formed by 
the inherent action of liee, — the same that perpetuates 
their existence and growth. 

4. All living things receive their substance and 
shape from within. Stones and other masses of dead 
matter increase by mere accretion. The force of attraction, 
chemical affinity, or mechanical pressure, attaches additional 
matter to the mass. And, if that mass is ever wrought into 
any form of beauty, according to the fancy of the artist, it 
is by a mechanical action from without. But the substance 
which enlarges whatever lives, is not thus attached. It 
enters through roots and leaves, through stomach and 
lungs, and is conveyed by a circulating system to the 
various parts. The power of life is greater than that of 
attraction and of chemical affinity, so that in opposition to 
them it often causes the sap and the blood to flow. And 
further, whatever of form and beauty appertain to the sub- 
jects of organized life, are by the hand of no external artist. 
The magnificent branching elm, the blooming tulip, the 
beauties of the human form and countenance, which art 
strives in vain to rival, are all, under God, the work of the 
vital poiver within. 

5. Every living thing assimilates to itself the mat- 
ter by which it grows. Whatever is united to a lifeless 
mass, is the same after being united that it was before. 
Uniting brass with gold does not make it gold. Chemical 
agencies may neutralize, or change the nature of the sub- 
stances on which they act ; but there is no assimilating 

2* 



18 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

power in chemical combinations, like that of life. " It is 
therefore correct to say, that in a living being the matter 
does not precede its form. The air we exhale is no longer 
what it was when we inhaled it ; the light absorbed by the 
plant is changed into color, and consequently does not exist 
in it as pure light ; and this change begins when the ele- 
ment is received by the plant. The wormwood, the rose- 
bush, the tube-rose, may all of them stand on the same soil, 
receive the same moisture, the same atmosphere, and the 
same degree of heat, and consequently live on the same 
elements ; yet the different taste and medical power of their 
sap, the different color of their leaves, the different fra- 
grance of their flowers, sufficiently shows, that while the 
same elements enter into their nature, they do not remain 
the same, but are changed and peculiarly modified by the 
form under which they enter it." * 

Such are the most manifest particulars, in which matter, 
under the power of life, differs from matter inanimate. Life, 
then, as applied to matter, is eminently a plastic power. 
It organizes, animates, assimilates, moulds, and/brms ; — it 
does not operate in a mere general way, but by specific 
methods to specific ends. Not more definite and individual 
is the potter's power in reference to the clay, which rises 
under his hand into vessels of every description, than is that 
of the Almighty, in reference to the clay, which rises under 
the plastic agency of life into every thing that lives upon 
the earth. The humble lichens, in which the feeblest sym- 
toms of vegetable life appear, not less than the sturdy oaks ; 
the minute infusoria, the lowest class of animals, so small 
that five thousand millions may live in a drop of water,f as 
well as the proud lords of creation — are alike produced by 
the plastic 'power of life. 

It is thus evident, that there is a wide distinction between 
living and dead matter ; that the various forms of organiza- 
tion are not produced by matter, nor by chance, but by a 
plastic power, which we call Life, placed in matter by the 
Creator, — a power by which he creates, upholds, and per- 
petuates all beings. 

* Rich's Psychology, p. 25. t See Ranch's Psychology, p. 30. 



LIFE. 19 



VEGETABLE LIFE. 

This is the lowest order of life, and makes the first step 
above the mineral creation. It is that plastic power which 
the Almighty places in connection with matter, to fashion 
it into the various herbs, plants, trees, that adorn and bless 
the earth. The peculiarity of this life is, that it is con- 
nected with no sensation nor will, — all of its movements, 
involving design, being directly referable to an intelligence 
above it. 

The life of the vegetable dates from the first movement 
of the organizing power, by which a living embryo is formed 
from the parent, and terminates with the destruction of that 
power. The vegetable body, then, becomes like the for- 
saken human body, subject to mere natural laws. The 
principle of life perishes with the vegetable, because its 
object is accomplished. 

Now it is evident, that neither heat nor viater furnishes 
this principle. They are only food, by which life makes 
the vegetable grow. The seed of a plant may lie dormant 
thousands of years. If the principle of life is still there, 
we have only to furnish the appropriate food — heat and 
water, — and the process of growth recommences. If the 
seed is dead, no power of heat or water can quicken it into 
life. 

That life is actually in the seed, during all this time, and not 
subsequently infused by heat or water, is certain from the 
fact that the seed does not perish. Take life from that 
seed, and it instantly becomes subject to the law of chemistry, 
and begins to be disintegrated. The same power that 
brought the atoms into an organized body, holds them 
there. 

It is equally certain that life cannot be mere motion ; — 
for, during the thousands of years in which the seed lies 
imbedded, it is motionless. Life is there, but no motion ; 
life is there, but not in action. The same mysterious prin- 
ciple, by which the great Unseen first formed the seed 
from the parent, and set it apart as a new living organiza- 
tion, still remains with it, and is ever ready, until it is 



20 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

forcibly expelled,* or its mission is accomplished, to go on 
perfecting and maturing its work, as fast as the materials 
are furnished. 



ANIMAL LIFE. 

Animal life is of a higher order than vegetable. It is, 
like vegetable life, a plastic power ; but it performs a more 
complicated and finished work ; and it differs infinitely from 
mere vegetable life, in being connected with sensation. 
Bichat has distinguished between animal and organic life ; 
making the latter respect the functions of the various parts ; 
the former, the general principle of life, pervading them 
all, and uniting them in one living being. Organic life 
is only functionary, or subservient to animal life. The 
whole, therefore, may be included under the general term.f 

As the Creator has ordained that the life of the vegeta- 
ble shall perish with the body, because its object is accom- 
plished, for the same reason he has ordained a similar end 
to the life of the animal. Hence Solomon says, " Who 
knoweth the spirit of man, that goeth upward," — that is, 
does not perish with the body, but ascends to a higher 
state, — " and the spirit of the brute, that goeth downward 
to the earth," — that is, perishes with the body. 



RATIONAL LIFE. 

But there is a still higher order of life, that of a rational 
being, created in the " image of God," and destined, like the 
Being in whose image he is made, to an endless existence. 
Life, in man, is a higher order of the same plastic power, 

* When Christ, by his miraculous power, destroyed the fig tree, he does 
not appear to have touched the body. The same invisible Almightiness, 
which originally put life in connection with the material of that tree, to 
organize and perfect it, withdrew the vital principle, and " instantly the 
Jig tree withered away.' 1 '' 

t See General Anatomy, by Xavier Bichat. Persons, not familiar with the 
French, may avail themselves of an excellent translation of this great 
work, by George Hay ward, M. D., of Boston. 



LIFE. 21 

which moulds the vegetable and the animal, forming a more 
exquisite and beautiful frame. 

But its chief glory is its relation to a rational and immor- 
tal nature. Considered in this relation, or as involving this 
nature, it is known by the various names, soul, spirit, ghost, 
mind.* When this has finally forsaken the body, the body 
is dead. Whatever is merely animal perishes with the 
body ; the rational soul returns " to God who gave it." 



AT WHAT PERIOD DOES HUMAN LIFE BECOME RATIONAL AND 
IMMORTAL ? 

The first man had no human parentage ; — he was created 
by the immediate agency of God. But it is not philo- 
sophical to suppose that God first formed a lifeless body, by 
mechanical or miraculous power, and then put life into it. 
It is more consistent to suppose that here, as elsewhere, he 
worked like himself; — that he put the principle of life in 
connection with matter to form a body ; — but whether that 
life was, from its first movement upon matter, rational and 
immortal, or whether this higher nature was imparted at a 
certain development of bodily organization, we are left to 
conjecture. The language of the sacred historian is popu- 
lar, and throws no light on this curious point. 

And so also in the case of all others, coming into the 

* These terms, as applied to man, are nearly synonymous. When 
writers have more particular reference to intellect, they commonly use the 
term mind; when to the moral or the vital powers, soul, spirit, or ghost. 
Some apply the term mind to the vital power of the vegetable, and hence 
speak of the mind of a plant or tree. But as this term is usually asso- 
ciated with some kind of intelligence, I prefer restricting it to the animal 
and rational creations. 

Mr. Francis Bowen, the distinguished author of the " Application of 
Metaphysical and Ethical Science to the Evidences of Religion," supposes 
that life in man may be an entirely different thing from what it is in the 
brute. His views of the distinction between the human and the brute mind, 
and on the direct agency of God in all of the movements of the brute, 
are somewhat in advance of the present state of science, but deserving 
of the highest regard. The reader is referred to the above work, com- 
prising his Lectures before the Lowell Institute, as one in which he can- 
not fail to find both interest and instruction of the highest order. 



22 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

world by the ordinary laws of generation. Whether from 
the first moment of embryonic life, that life is the life of a 
rational and immortal being, so that in case of death the 
soul survives ; or whether the high prerogatives of ration- 
ality and immortality are subsequently bestowed, at such a 
stage of development as Divine Wisdom sees best; is a 
point on which I confess myself unable to throw a ray of 
light.* 



THE EXISTENCE OF THE SOUL NOT DEPENDENT ON THE 

BODY. 

Some have supposed that the existence of the soul 
depends upon the body. Such were the ancient Sad- 
ducees, who denied angel and spirit ; such are all atheists, 
who deny both the existence of God as a spirit, and the 
spiritual nature of man ; and such are all materialists, who 
either take the bold ground of atheism, or deny the con- 
scious existence of the soul betwixt death and the resurrec- 
tion. But a bright African lad, of a Sabbath school, might 
teach all such persons a truthful lesson. On being asked, 
What is the soul? — after a moment's pause, he replied 
with kindling eye, " I do not exactly know what it is, but 
it is something that lives without the body" 

We have seen that life is a plastic power, put in relation 
to matter to organize it. It is then not dependent on the 
organization ; for a cause cannot depend upon its effect. 
Organization depends upon life, not life upon organization. 
The human body may have the same organization the mo- 
ment after life has fled, as the moment before; — what- 
ever difference there may be, is occasioned by the presence 
or absence of life. This is proved by what has been pre- 
viously shown, but the evidence will be more distinctly 
stated. 

* Beausobrc speaks of three opinions held by the fathers respecting the 
origin of the soul: "First, that souls were created when the body was 
ready to receive them ; second, that they came from God, and are enclosed 
in the male seed ; third, that the first soul, namely, that of Adam, was made 
of nothing, and that all the rest came from this by ordinary generation." — 
See Priestley's Disquisitions, Vol. I., p. 248. 



LIFE. 23 



THE SOUL PRECEDES AND FORMS THE BODY. 

If the plastic power, which we call life, precedes and 
forms the vegetable and the animal body, no less does the 
same power precede and form the human body. Whether 
this life or soul is from the first rational and immortal, or is 
endowed with these attributes subsequently, is a question 
that we have felt compelled to waive ; but that it precedes 
and forms the body, is clearly demonstrable from the follow- 
ing facts. 

1. It is the controlling agent over the body. The soul is 
active ; the body passive. The soul acts directly upon the 
body; the body only re-acts upon the soul. The heart 
beats, the blood Aoays, the lungs play, the body grows, only 
as operated upon by the power of life. The muscles move, 
as the will moves them. Whether we are awake or asleep, 
the soul is still animating and controlling the body, in all 
its movements, both involuntary and voluntary. The body 
is then the soul's instrument, and hence cannot produce the 
soul. An instrument cannot operate, without an agent to 
operate it ; hence, to suppose that the body produces the 
soul, is an absurdity. The soul, the agent, must exist, 
before the body, the instrument, can operate. u God did 
not create the soul posterior and junior; " says Plato, " for 
he would not have suffered an elder thing to be ruled by a 
younger. Wherefore he constituted the soul, both by 
excellence and by birth, to be prior to and older than the 
body, as the mistress and ruler thereof." * 

2. Physiological facts prove the same. The minutest 
examinations which physiologists have been able to make, 
with microscopes, upon embryonic life, in fishes and other 
animals, demonstrates that the ultimate material of which 
all bodies are formed is precisely the same.| Why, 

» 

* On this point Plato has many excellent thoughts, in his argument 
against atheism. See Plato Contra Atheos ; edited by Taylor Lewis, 
D.D., New York edition, 1845, p. 19. This is a valuable selection in the 
original Greek, and ably edited. 

t For this fact, the reader is referred to the Lectures of ProL Agassiz, 
before the Lowell Institute, of Boston, 1848^49,. on Embryonic Life, 



24 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

then, the difference in the bodies formed ? If not found in 
the material, it must be sought in the formative principle, 
the living soul. Created directly by God, or proceeding 
from the parent by the laws of propagation, it forms to itself 
a body suited to its nature. The living soul or spirit of 
the fish, forms to itself the body of a fish ; that of the ani- 
mal, the body of an animal ; and that of the man, the body 
of a man. Let it not be supposed that we overlook the 
sovereign agency of God, in the formation of the body. It 
is He that, directly or indirectly, creates and empowers 
the living spirit, and guides all its movements. Viewed in 
its relation to the body, the soul is an agent ; viewed in its 
relation to God, an instrument. As it is thus through the 
instrumentality of the soul that God begins, forms, and sus- 
tains the body, so when he withdraws the soul, the body 
falls back under natural agencies, and is gradually resolved 
to dust. 

" The matter which composes organic bodies," says the 
author of The Laws of Causation, " consists of precisely the 
same materials as that of inorganic matter, differing only in 
the number and intensity of its combinations." This must 
of course depend upon the nature of the organizing agent. 
" The proximate elements peculiar to animal life are fibrin, 
albumen, and gelatin : — these are found to be the elements 
of our own framework, and chemical analysis reduces them 
all to the same simple elements which constitute mineral 
bodies. Seventeen mineral substances, or twenty, are found 
in vegetables, and fifteen in animals and man. All these 
substances more or less commingle, and each is promiscu- 
ously found both in vegetable and animal life, as well as in 
mineral bodies. Chemical analysis reduces these bodies 
still further into oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, and hydrogen, 
the primitive elements of inorganic matter, which brings 
them into dust, the starting point of man." * 

* Laws of Causation, p. 82. 



QUESTIONS. 25 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER I. 

What is the first mentioned theory of life 3 Distinction between heat 
and caloric 3 Objections to this view 1 The atheistic theory 1 Cud- 
worth's reply ? Theory of Thales 3 Of what two conditions is matter 
susceptible 3 Opinions of some philosophers respecting the diffusion of 
life 3 What has led them to such sweeping theories 3 What is a state of 
inertia ? What is the other state called 3 What is said of life 3 What 
do we know of it 3 What is the first peculiarity of living matter 3 Il- 
lustrations. Inference. Second peculiarity 3 Remarks. How is the 
change effected in plants 3 Animals 2 Third peculiarity 3 Illustrate. 
By virtue of what do living things spring into being and grow 3 Illus- 
trate. Fourth peculiarity 3 Facts in proof 3 Fifth peculiarity 3 Remarks. 
What then, eminently, is Life ? Vegetable life 3 Its peculiarity 3 Origin 
and end 3 Does heat or water produce it ? Why not 3 Is life mere mo- 
tion ? Why not 3 Animal life 3 Wherein different from vegetable 3 Bi- 
chat's distinction between animal and organic life 3 When does animal 
life end 3 Rational life 3 Its chief glory 3 Subsequent remarks. Have 
any supposed the soul dependent on the body 3 Who 3 Anecdote 3 
Why is not the soul dependent on the bodily organization 3 Which 
precedes and forms the other, the soul or the body 3 First proof of 
this 3 Remarks. Second proof 3 Remarks. 



CHAPTER II. 
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 



The first difference that strikes us between man and the 
brute creation, is found in the body. This should be par- 
ticularly noticed, as it throws light upon their points of dif- 
ference in respect to mind. There is a perfect adaptation 
of body to mind, through the whole range of organized 
beings. It may assist us in tracing these analogies, to start 
below the animal, with the vegetable creation. 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE VEGETABLE AND THE ANIMAL, 

The vegetable has no apparatus for locomotion; and if it 
had, it has no intelligence nor will with which to move it. 
All of its movements are therefore passive. It is tossed by 
the winds, bowed by the dews and rains, borne to different 
places by human hands ; the mere passive subject of extra- 
neous forces. The simple principle of life, the plastic power 
alone, can develop itself, and accomplish all its ends, in the 
mere vegetable organization. 

The limbs of animals point downwards, and are furnished 
with various firm fixtures at the bottom, to be moved along 
by a motive power in the mind. But the limbs of vegeta- 
bles point upwards, and, by unfolding a wide surface to the 
heavens, invite the winds to move them. Both the vegeta- 
ble and the animal, then, have a moving apparatus ; but the 
one is moved by a power within, the other by a power 
without. 

Something more than the mere plastic power of life is 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 27 

needed to accomplish the ends of the animal. Possessed of 
a moving apparatus, he has a mind, a will, to move it. The 
distinction between the vegetable and the animal is thus 
clearly marked. The one has intelligence, and a body 
adapted to it ; the other has neither. Hence, the animal 
is not, as some assert, a higher order of vegetable. Elevate 
the vegetable infinitely, it is still a vegetable and not an 
animal. There is not an unbroken chain of degrees running 
upwards from the vegetable to the animal ; the animal is a 
new creation. Each has life ; each is truly organized ; each 
begins, grows, dies, by a similar process ; but here the anal- 
ogy ends.* 

Nor do we annihilate the generic distinction between the 
vegetable and the animal, by facts deduced from the " count- 
less tribes of atomic life," called animalcules. Chemical 
experiments have proved that the germ of animalcules is 
abundantly found in vegetable and mineral bodies ; and 
microscopic observation has detected myriads of these living 
mites in a drop of water. But the germs or eggs from 
which they spring, have their unequivocal animal parentage ; 
— these creatures live and breathe, eat, drink, move, suffer, 
and enjoy, and finally die, in their appropriate elements, 
like their larger brethren of the various animal tribes. Al- 
though they are generated, live and die, in the vegetable, 
the mineral, the water, they are as distinct from either, as 
is the ox from the air in which he moves, and the ground on 
which he treads. They are not themselves a u constituent 
property " of the vegetables, the minerals, the water, in 
which they are found ; for these may exist without them. 

=* The infusoria, or molds, that grow upon damp walls, are said to have 
sensation, but no voluntary motion. If no desire or will to move exists, 
a moving apparatus would of course be useless ; but if there be sensation 
only, there is a new creation, a new order of being. It is not certain, 
however, that infusoria have sensation ; if not, they are mere vegetable, and 
furnish no exception to our law. 

" The simplest combination of animal life where sensation first mani- 
fests itself in matter, is found in mines, where ' unmolested by winds, or 
changing temperature, the infusoria, or molds, cover the damp wall.' The 
proper element of the infusoria, or molds, is albumen, which they receive 
from the mineral body to which they adhere ; the mineral being the matrix 
of the mold. Its delicate tissue is composed chiefly of water, eighty-five 
per cent, of which is oxygen ; they have a feeble circulation, with little 
orno sensation." — Laws of Causation, Sensational Physiology, p. 102. 



28 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

It is only the matter, of which their bodies are organized, 
that is a constituent property of these several substances.* 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ANIMAL AND MAN. 

The difference between the animal and man is of a similar 
nature. It is not a difference of mere degrees, but of kind. 
Elevate the animal infinitely, it is still an animal. The 
essential prerogatives of the man are not there, and only a 
new creation can impart them. In their organizations, phys- 
ical functions, sensations, diseases, processes of growth, and 
of dissolution, man and animals are analogous ; beyond this, 
the analogy fails. However nearly some of the more 
curious animals, as the ourang outang and the monkey, may 
seem to approach man, they are yet heaven-wide distant 
from him ; the distinguishing glory of man, the rational and 
immortal nature, they have not. 

In the vast and complicated work of creation, God moves 
from the lower to the higher, with as few abrupt changes as 
possible. Angular transitions are not common in his works ; 
and when they must needs be, their nakedness is gracefully 
disguised. Across every chasm he throws a bridge, that 
human philosophy may find a path from the humblest point 
of creation up to the highest order of being. As he ascends 
in the work of creation, he avails himself of all possible rela- 
tions to the lower orders ; never passing from the lower to 
the higher, without binding them together by some common 
bonds. Hence, the vegetable is by various ties united to 
the animal, and the animal to the rational ; but we must not 
infer, that therefore the one is a mere continuation of the 
other. This is a mistake which philosophy has too often 
made. 

* " Chemical experiments have decided that the element or germ of 
animalcules is found as a constituent property, not only of vegetable, but 
as far back as that of mineral bodies. Fibrin, albumen, and gelatin — the 
elements which compose our own bodies — are properties and constituent 
principles of mineral substances." — Laws of Causation. But there is this 
important difference : — fibrin, albumen, and gelatin, are essential parts of 
our bodies. Our bodies cannot exist with them. But animalcules are 
not essential parts of vegetables, animals, and water, for these can exist 
without them 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 29 

The psychological distinctions between men and animals 
will be considered hereafter ; it is only their physical dif- 
ferences, with which we are particularly concerned at this 
moment. Man differs from the brute, physically, in the 
following particulars; 

1. Erectness of position. Man was made upright, 
not less in body than in soul. He is the only being that 
was made to look upwards towards his home in heaven ; 
all animals look downwards towards the earth, to which they 
are going. Few animals ever saw the sun, moon, or stars ; 
the glorious arch of heaven spreads over them unobserved ; 
they look ever towards the earth, and care only for the 
earth, which feeds their bodies. 

The body of man is so formed that it is unnatural and 
very difficult for him to walk in any other than an erect 
position. His legs are much longer than his arms, and his 
knee-joints so project as to render it impossible for him to 
plant the bottom of his feet upon the ground, as animals do, 
with the body in a horizontal position. Moreover, the mus- 
cles that support the head are so inserted as to be incapable 
of sustaining it in this position but for a short time. The 
eyes of the animal are so situated that he sees the path 
before him when walking on all fours, or with his body 
balanced horizontally on his two feet, like the barn fowl ; 
but the eyes of man are so situated that he can see in the 
distance, only as he moves erect. " Man," says Ranch, " is 
made to turn his head from the earth to the sky, from the 
right to the left, to view now the crawling insect beneath 
his feet, and now the millions of stars above his head. To 
the fish it is natural to swim, to the bird to fly, to man to 
walk upright. The Greek word for man, signifying a 
being that can look upwards, indicates the difference between 
man and animals in this respect. It influences our whole 
being and nature. Even the bees, when they have lost 
their queen bee, cause the larva of a future laboring bee to 
be transformed into a queen by changing its horizontal to 
an upright position, and giving it food." * 

2. Covering. The outer covering of animals is hair, 

* Eanch's Psychology, p. 14. 

3* 



30 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

fur, feathers, bristles, scales, and other insensible sub- 
stances, which are a kind of substitute for clothes. In this 
respect, the animal approaches nearer to the vegetable than 
to man. The rough bark, the prickles, thorns, &c, serving 
to protect and defend the vegetable, are like the various 
coverings, and the horns and claws, which protect and 
defend the animal. 

These animal coverings change with seasons and climates, 
thus protecting their subjects from the extremes of cold and 
heat. Hair, wool, feathers, &c, are put off in spring, and 
gradually resumed at autumn ; and if we transport a woolly 
animal from frigid to torrid zones, the hotter clothing, wool, 
is soon exchanged for the cooler clothing, hair. 

Because the animal has no reason to contrive, and no 
hands to make, a covering for himself, the all-wise Creator 
makes it for him. But while it serves to protect him, it 
deprives him of those delicate sensations to which man is 
perpetually subject over the entire surface of his body. 
The only natural covering of man is a highly sensitive, 
smooth, delicate skin, to be protected by artificial means. 
Even the first pair, untaught as they were, were yet left in 
this condition, until reason and industry placed the rude 
dress upon them. Since man has these, by which to clothe 
himself as he needs and desires, his natural covering is so 
made as to answer a superior, beneficent design. 

While his skin serves, in common with that of the animal, 
to limit and protect the muscular system, it is, at the same 
time, of so refined a structure as to be almost transparent. 
Through it we see the various channels of the blood, the 
boundaries of chords and muscles, the precise points where 
to apply the surgical instrument; through it we see the 
healthy or diseased condition of every limb and muscle ; 
blooming vigor, burning fever, wasting consumption, are all 
seen through the skin,* in every part of the human frame. 
It is far otherwise with animals. 

3. The head and face. The head of man is symmet- 
rical, lofty, and balanced erect. The largest part is the 
forehead and upper portions, the organ of the rational 

* Although this remark is less applicable to the colored than to the 
white races, yet in many respects it applies to all. 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 31 

powers. His face is also the expression of beauty, intelli- 
gence, dignity, feeling. Thought sparkles in the eye, 
modesty blushes on the cheek, passion plays upon the lip ; 
hope, love, courage, anger, joy, mirth, and sorrow, come 
and go upon the countenance, as the soul bids. We see 
the man in the face. He is the only being upon earth, that, 
in strict language, can laugh and cry : - — although deer, and 
some other animals, indicate sorrow, in ways resembling 
those of man. The head of the animal pitches downwards 
and converges towards the mouth ; the sensual part being 
most prominent. The mouths of animals are much larger, 
relatively, than those of men. The face is hairy and almost 
motionless. As the mind of the brute is very limited in 
its operations, so the face, the index of the mind, is equally 
limited. The innumerable thoughts and emotions, to which 
the human countenance gives expression, could not be indi- 
cated by the face of the animal. 

The lower part of the human face, in the male sex, is 
covered with hair, to distinguish it from the other sex ; but 
as this is not needed for covering, like that of the head, 
men usually find all its purposes answered in a shorn condi- 
tion ; excepting those who would emulate the goat or the 
monkey. But the more intellectual and beautiful parts, the 
forehead, cheeks, nose, mouth, refuse all covering, and con- 
spire with the eyes to give perpetual utterance to the mind. 
Even the Jew and the Mormon, with the full growth of hair 
dangling on the chin, cannot prevent the soul from making 
herself manifest in the countenance. 

4. The hand. This has justly been considered the 
wonder of our frame. The thoughtful study of this mem- 
ber, alone, would seem to be a cure for atheism. Animals 
have paws, hoofs, claws, probosces, and other substitutes for 
the human hand ; — it was for man alone to possess that 
perfect instrument, by which the blessings of civilization 
and religion are extended over the earth. The delicate 
touch and finished mechanism of this organ, give it a versa-* 
tility and power of execution, equalled only by the multi- 
tudinous thoughts and promptings of the mind that moves it. 

It hews down the forest, and converts its savage wildness 
into fields of blooming beauty and waving harvests. It 



I 



32 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

bores through the mountains, lifts up the valleys, constructs 
bridges for the oceans, and makes highways around the 
globe. It builds houses and cities ; it raises temples of 
worship, pointing their pinnacles to the heavens, whither 
the mind aspires. 

The same instrument performs the lighter and more deli- 
cate works of art. It digs the minerals from the earth, and 
subjects them to the various purposes of utility and orna- 
ment. It clothes our persons with fabrics of strength and 
beauty, adapted to all climates, seasons, and conditions. It 
wields that little but mighty instrument, the pen, by which 
the mind throws its thoughts upon paper ; — it constructs 
and operates a printing apparatus, by which those thoughts 
are transferred, multiplied, and sent breathing over the 
world. 

The fine arts, strictly so called, are indebted to this same 
wonderful instrument. Its delicate pencillings animate the 
canvass ; repeat the verdant landscape, the winding river, 
the ragged cliff, the towering mountain ; array our absent 
friends, and illustrious men of other lands and other ages, 
in living forms before us ; and portray, in living light, the 
varied and brilliant workings of imagination. The same 
hand, with the chisel it has wrought, puts life into the dull 
cold rock, and can " almost make the marble speak." Its 
flexible joints and nimble muscles dance over the chords and 
keys of the musical instrument, and make it " discourse 
sweet harmonies. " 

The hand is the instrument, too, by which the soul im- 
presses its moral sentiments and emotions. Desire and 
aversion, supplication and resistance, animation and distress, 
are expressed by the hand. It is the instrument of affec- 
tion. Its warm embrace communicates the soul of friend- 
ship, and sends a thrill of joy into the heart. 

5. Organs of speech. Animals have organs suited to 
utter all their minds dictate ; — this is only a few inarticu- 
late, though significant, sounds. Besides the purpose of 
breathing, the mouth and throat of the animal seem, by their 
structure, to have contemplated scarcely any higher end 
than seizing, eating, and swallowing their food. Their pro- 
jecting jaws, with hooked or cutting teeth, and the strong mus- 



DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 33 

cles that operate them, and their large open throats, emi- 
nently and almost solely adapt them to seize and hold their 
prey, to clip the grasses and twigs, and greedily to devour 
whatever their stomachs crave. Many of the ends to which 
the animal subjects his mouth, are, by man, secured with the 
hand. 

The mouth and throat of man have their importance as 
an eating apparatus, but they also subserve other purposes, 
more directly relating to his higher nature. So great is the 
number and flexibility of muscles connected with his organs 
of speech, that their utterances well nigh keep pace with 
the lightninglike flashes of his thoughts. A language of 
eighty thousand significant words, with their infinitude of 
combinations, pours from his lips, with a rapidity and ease, 
at which nothing but familiarity saves us from utter amaze- 
ment. Seriously considered, no miracle is more wonderful. 
Its muscles are so movable, that, according to Haller's cal- 
culation, it may pronounce, in one minute, fifteen hundred 
letters. The contraction of a muscle forming the letter, 
must consequently take place in the three thousandth part 
of a minute, and the vibrations of the stylopharyngean mus- 
cle, in pronouncing a letter, in the thirty-thousandth. " No 
bird flies as fast as the winged words fall from the lips of 
man." The human voice can be made not only to express 
all the sounds of all human languages, in every conceivable 
tone, but to mimic the language of every irrational creature 
upon the earth. 

6. Digestive functions. Man is said to be the only 
creature strictly omnivorous. The range of animals, in 
respect to food, especially those of the lower order, is ex- 
tremely limited. Some reptiles subsist, like the vegetable, 
on mud alone ; some fishes, like certain vegetables, on mere 
water. The higher we rise in the scale of being, the more 
varied we find the food. But even the horse, the ox, the 
elephant, is confined to vegetables ; while the lion and the 
tiger are confined to flesh. But man spreads his table from 
the flesh of all animals, and the fruits of all climes. There 
is no flesh which he cannot eat and digest ; no vegetable, 
not poisonous, to which he cannot adapt his appetite and his 
taste. Even grass and leaves, in the absence of all other 



34 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

food, will sustain his life for a season. The kind of flesh 
selected by different people, is, in a great measure, conven- 
tional ; — what some reject, others consider their richest 
dainty. The same is true of vegetables. But it is not so 
with the animal races. The animal of a certain species 
selects the same food, the world over, in all ages ; — any 
essential deviation occasions sickness and death. 

This omnivorousness of man eminently jits Jam to inhabit 
all countries, at all seasons ; — to endure all climates ; to 
live on sea and on land ; to dwell in cities and in forests, in 
deep ravines and on mountain-tops : to range the world at 
large, and lord it over creation. 

Some have considered it an argument for man's servility 
and dependence, that he partakes of so many kinds of food. 
But they should consider that he is not dependent on all 
these. He can subsist, like the animal, on one or two ; — 
and hence, has the two- fold advantage of living when and 
where the animal cannot, and of feasting upon all kinds, 
where they are at his service. From the oyster, the turtle, 
the frog ; from the hosts of the finny tribes, in waters salt 
and fresh ; from all the animals that graze the fields, range 
the forests, and climb the mountains ; from all the " winged 
racers of the sky ; " he gathers the smoking viands of his 
board. To the substantial gifts of the earth, the corn, rice, 
and esculent roots, he acids the savory spices of India, the 
luscious fruits of sunny climes, and cools his tongue in sum- 
mer with the crystal ice dug from the heart of winter. It 
is, then, no poetry, but severe truth, to say that man makes 
the whole living world subserve his purposes ; — that all the 
fish of the sea, all the fowls of the air, all the beasts of the 
field, and all the vegetable creation, lay their united offer- 
ings upon his board ; — and to all he is prepared to give a 
cordial reception. 

Having thus seen the superiority of man's body over that 
of the animal, we are the better prepared to trace the cor- 
responding superiority of his mind. In the mean time, 
there is one quality, in respect to which, in the absence of 
reason, the animal has the superiority ; — I refer, of course, 
to instinct. Having taken some notice of this, in the next 
chapter, we may proceed to the main subject. 



QUESTIONS. 35 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER II. 

What is the first difference that strikes us between men and brutes ? 
Why deserving of notice ? What is said of the vegetable ? Of the ani- 
mal ? Of the distinction between them % Of animalcules ? Distinction 
between men and animals ? How does God move in the work of crea- 
tion ? What may we not infer 1 First particular difference between men 
and brutes 1 Remarks. How is man formed ? In reference to walking ? 
The animal 1 Second particular difference ? The covering of animals ? 
Its resemblance to that of trees ? Its changes ? Of what does it deprive 
the animal ? What superior advantages has man in this respect ? Third 
particular difference ? What of man's head aud face ? Of the animal's ? 
What of the lower parts of the human face ? Of the upper ? Fourth par- 
ticular difference ? Remarks. What have animals in place of the 
human hand ? What does the human hand do ? Give particulars. In 
what lies the fifth difference between man and brutes 1 What is said of 
the mouth and throat of animals ? — Particulars. Those of man 1 — 
Particulars. What is the sixth difference between men and brutes ? 
What is man said to be ? The range of animals in respect to food 3 — 
Particulars. The range of man? To what does this adapt him? 
How does it appear that this does not render him servile ? Remarks. 



CHAPTER III 



INSTINCT. 



Instinct, in brutes, is a substitute for human reason. 
As this subject has but an incidental connection with mental 
philosophy, it will here receive but a brief notice. Some 
allow no instinct to man, and no intelligence to the brute ; 
referring all the actions of the one to instinct, and all those 
of the other to intellect* However this may be, the brute 
has certainly a much larger endowment of instinct than 
man ; and that, evidently, because destitute of reason. 



DEFINITION OF INSTINCT. 

" An instinct is a propensity prior to experience, and 
independent of instruction" This is the definition given 
by Paley, and perhaps the best that can be framed. He 
adds, " We contend, that it is by instinct that the sexes of 
animals seek each other ; that animals cherish their off- 
spring ; that the young quadruped is directed to the teat of 
its dam ; that birds build their nests, and brood with so 
much patience upon their eggs, deposit them in those par- 
ticular situations, in which the young, when hatched, find 
their appropriate food ; that it is instinct which carries the 
salmon, and some other fish, out of the sea into rivers, for 
the purpose of shedding their spawn in fresh water." f 

* See Bowen on Metaphysical and Ethical Science, p. 222. 
t Paley's Natural Theology, Chapter on Instinct. 



INSTINCT. 37 



DISTINCTION BETWEEN INSTINCT AND REASON. 

As these are set off against each other, in the animal and 
human races, it will further our inquiries to notice their 
most material points of difference. We shall find that ani- 
mals have, in common with man, to some extent, sensation, 
perception, memory ; — all these are implied in many of 
their instinctive acts. As they pertain to man, they will 
be considered in their appropriate place. Over and above 
these, man has rational powers to guide him, while animals 
have those of instinct. They differ in the following par- 
ticulars. 

1. Instinct is mature at once; reason matures gradu- 
ally. So progressive is reason, that philosophy is puzzled 
to tell ivhen it commences. The first developments of rea- 
son are exceedingly feeble, and it is a long time before it 
can go alone. Through the whole period of infancy, little 
or no reliance can be placed upon the rational powers ; nor 
is it until a process of training has been realized, that the 
child is competent even to select appropriate food, and use 
the other essential means of life. 

But no sooner is the chicken hatched, than it seeks a 
proper shelter, and, at the right time, looks around for food, 
selects only appropriate kinds ; and practices, skilfully, all 
the arts of self-preservation and self-nutrition, which we see 
in the older and more experienced. This is true of a soli- 
tary chicken, hatched by artificial means, and never seeing 
any other fowl. If it does this by reason, then its rational 
powers far transcend those of man; if by instinct, then 
instinct is mature at once, and independent of all instruc- 
tion. 

2. Instinct is a blind impulse ; reason is a reflective 
power. The one qualifies the mind to think and judge for 
itself ; — the other is the mind of the Creator, operating 
through that of the animal. The instinctive movements of 
the animal are those of a mere instrument, operated by 
divine wisdom ; the rational movements of man are those of 
a responsible agent. The animal knows not why he does 



38 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

thus and so ; — he cannot interpret his own acts ; — he can 
give no reason for them. Man, on the contrary, knows 
what he does, and can give a reason for his conduct. 
"However it may be with the brute," says Bowen, " rea- 
son is not united with instinct, (properly so called) in 
man. The human intellect is pure and unmixed. It may 
be obscured by appetite, or stormed by passion ; habit may 
render its operations so swift and easy, that we cannot note 
and remember their succession. But when free from these 
disturbing forces, it acts always with a full perception of 
the end in view, and by a deliberate choice of means, aims 
at its accomplishment. We have the immediate testimony 
of consciousness that we never select means until experience 
has informed us of their efficacy, and never use them but 
with a full knowledge of their relation to the end." * 

3. Instinct is limited, reason is universal. Indeed, 
the entire range of instinct embraces only four objects, — 
nutrition, protection, motion, propagation ; and these might, 
perhaps, be further reduced to two or three. Each animal 
has its own specific instinct, beyond the range of which it is 
utterly incompetent. Each species has its own kinds of 
food and ways of receiving it ; its own method of locomo- 
tion ; its own manner of propagating, cherishing, nourish- 
ing, training its young. Left to itself, each will take a 
particular course, and no other; — and if we undertake to 
force it into another, we soon find that we are contending 
against nature. The eagle, the swallow, the ground-bird, 
will each build its nest in its own way and place ; — the 
goslin and the duck, hatched by the hen, and knowing no 
other parent, will disregard her call and plunge into the 
water, and act just like all other goslins and ducks. The 
cat has her peculiar ways, and can never be forced into 
those of the dog. Thus does the Creator, by specific 
instincts, limit and mark the several species of the animal 
creation. 

Reason, on the contrary, is applied in all directions, and 
embraces all subjects. It can regard all possible objects, 

* Lowell Lectures, p. 242. 



INSTINCT. 39 

appropriate all possible means, and sweep the entire com- 
pass of human interests and relations, as they respect both 
the body and the soul, the present life and the life to come, 



EXAMPLES OF INSTINCT. 

A few examples of instinct will be here subjoined. 

Bees. The manner in which bees construct their comb 
and deposit their honey, furnishes one of the most wonder- 
ful illustrations of this power. The comb is constructed 
upon the exact mathematical principle, by which the great- 
est possible strength is secured, in connection with the 
greatest possible capacity. The base of each cell is so 
placed upon the rim of the cell beneath, as both to impart 
strength to the vessel on which it rests, and secure the 
greatest strength to itself. If one corner rested perpen- 
dicularly upon another, the sides would be weak, and the 
whole mass would soon crush. A round figure would occa- 
sion loss of room ; a square figure is weak ; — the only one 
by which all the surfaces could be made exactly to coincide, 
while yet the sides and corners alternate in the way most 
conducive to strength, is that which the bee has selected.* 
And if we separate bees from the parent hive at the earliest 
possible moment, and keep them ever by themselves, they 
construct their comb and deposit their honey in the same 
way. The principle on which they do it, subjected to rea- 
son, involves some of the highest mathematical calculations, 
such as only a Euclid or an Arkwright can appreciate or 
understand. Here, then, we have the alternative, — either 
the untaught bee is a mathematician, deserving a place by 

* I hare to-day attended the hiving of a swarm of bees. About a peck 
of them hung from a branch, which was placed under the new hive, into 
which they are now fast entering. The intelligent gentleman who has 
the care of them, says, " I consider bees a miracle." This living mass 
moves in a solid body up into the hive. After remaining in this condi- 
tion four and twenty hours, you begin to see the beautiful white comb 
occupying the place where they have been. They go in laden with the 
material for building; and the interior bees, in total darkness, with thous- 
ands hanging around them, construct vessels for their nectar, which, for 
beauty, skill, strength, and mathematical accuracy far transcend the 
highest powers of human ingenuity. 



40 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the side of Newton and La Place, or she is a mere instru- 
ment in the hands of her Creator, acting out his wisdom, 
and not her own. The latter is our conclusion, and this 
brings us to our explanation of instinct. The bee knows 
not what she does, nor why she does it. She acts only as she 
is acted upon. 

Butterflies. It is known to all, that these beautiful 
creatures are transformed caterpillars. The two creatures 
are as much unlike as can be well conceived. We can 
hardly suppose it possible that the butterfly ever recognizes 
the caterpillar, as sustaining the relation to her which it 
does. Butterflies associate together, but we never see them 
associating with caterpillars. We should as soon think of 
seeing doves and snakes herding together. The butterfly 
deposits her eggs, and that is the last of them to her ; un- 
less, at some future day, she meets them in the form of 
kindred butterflies. But there is this curious fact ; — they 
"deposit their eggs," says Paley, " in the precise substance, 
that of a cabbage, for example, from which not the butterfly 
herself, but the caterpillar which is to issue from her egg, 
draws its appropriate food. The butterfly cannot taste the 
cabbage. Cabbage is no food for her; yet, in the cabbage, 
not by chance, but studiously and electively, she lays her 
eggs. There are, amongst many other kinds, the willow- 
caterpillar and the cabbage-caterpillar ; but we never find 
upon the willow the caterpillar which eats the cabbage ; nor 
the converse. This choice, as appears to me, cannot, in the 
butterfly, proceed from instruction. She had no teacher in 
her caterpillar state. She never knew her parent. I do 
not see, therefore, how knowledge acquired by experience, 
if it ever were such, could be transmitted from one genera- 
tion to another. There is no opportunity, either for instruc- 
tion or imitation." * 

Spiders. All who have studiously watched the spider 
in constructing her web, must have been struck with the 
wonderful ingenuity of that animal. The object is to catch 
flies for food, to secure protection in an elevated position, 
and to construct a convenient bridge for service, when not 

* Natural Theology. Chapter on Instincts. 



INSTINCT. 41 

in a condition to spin. Availing herself of her resources, 
at the right time, she spins, and so weaves the web as to 
secure the greatest strength and widest surface, with the 
smallest amount of material; and so arranges the entire 
net-work, as to have it under the direct control of her 
fingers. She renders the trap invisible to its victims, and 
at the same time sufficiently strong to hold them. She thus 
sits securely in her central position, commanding the whole 
web, and feasting her eye upon the poor insects ensnared 
by her cunning. 

No less marked is the ingenuity of those spiders, which 
bore into the earth. " The mining spider," says Ranch, 
" digs a channel into the earth about two feet deep, and 
closes it very artificially by a trap door. This door is 
round, formed of different layers of earth, which are held 
together by threads ; its outside is rough, but the inside 
smooth and lined with a thick texture, from the upper part 
of which threads run to the surface of the channel, so that 
the door hangs on a string, and falls by its own weight into 
a fold, as accurately as if the whole had been affected by 
mathematical skill. This door the spider has the skill to 
keep shut by its bodily exertions, when an enemy tries to 
open it." * 

Fishes and Amphibious Animals. The manner in 
which fishes deposit their spawn, so as to secure for it 
a suitable place and element, is a striking example of 
instinct. The salmon and the shad, for instance, make 
long pilgrimages up rivers, surmounting rapids and other 
difficulties, for the sole purpose, so far as appears, of 
finding a proper deposit for their spawn. Having done 
this, they immediately return to the sea, having no further 
concern with their issue. Other animals, again, make jour- 
neys from the mountains to the salt water, to find the ele- 
ment congenial to their spawn. " The violet crab, of 
Jamaica, performs a fatiguing march of some months' con- 
tinuance, from the mountains to the sea-side. When she 
reaches the coast, she casts her spawn into the open sea, 

* Psychology, p. 34. 



42 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and sets out upon her return home." * In the one case, 
the sea, in the other, the land, is the only suitable place 
for hatching the spawn. How do the respective animals 
know this ? Not by having been taught ; for they do thus 
when kept always by themselves ; not by experiment, for 
all do so from the first ; not by reason, for it is a thing not 
within the province of reason, until taught by facts. These 
animals know what no human being, under the circum- 
stances, possibly could know ; or they do not understand 
their own conduct, but are under direction of a wisdom act- 
ing through them, by a law which we have termed instinct. 
Barn Fowls. The above examples suffice to illustrate 
and confirm our definition, but for the sake of calling the 
attention of the young to the operations of instinct, let us 
observe them as illustrated in an animal with which all are 
familiar. 

1. Why does the hen provide a nest for her eggs ? Why 
does she not drop them about promiscuously ? What has 
taught her to attach any value to them, or, if she value 
them, so to arrange them in a nest as to be able to cover 
them all with her feathers ? Here, certainly, is design ; 
but not springing from any wisdom in the untaught animal ; 
for no reason, until taught by observation, could explain the 
means of hatching eggs. Here animal instinct first taught 
human reason. 

2. Why does the hen, having filled her nest with eggs, 
incline to set upon them ? It is a most self-denying business 
for the hen, which delights in roving about in quest of food, 
to be confined to a single spot. She could not, ordinarily, 
be made to stay there a moment. Scarcely a cord would 
suffice to bind her there. But here is something stronger 
than any cord. It holds her, night and day, for three long 
weeks, to her chosen prison ; from which she departs only 
at intervals, long enough to get the food and drink essential 
to life. Sometimes she wastes away, and even dies of 
starvation upon the nest. This cannot be explained by affec- 
tion for her eggs, nor by any " pleasure which the bird is 
supposed to receive from the pressure of the smooth convex 

* Paley's Natural Theology. Chapter on Instinct. 



INSTINCT. 43 

surface of the shells against the abdomen ;" for she often 
continues to set, after the eggs are removed; — nor is it 
referable to example or instruction ; for a hen, raised by 
herself, from a chick artificially hatched, will do the same. 

3. Why is the hen careful, when she leaves her nest for 
food, to return to it before the eggs become cold ? "What 
has taught her, that a chill upon the egg destroys the 
chick? If food is not so accessible as to fill her crop 
within her time, she returns to the nest hungry, imparts a 
fresh warmth to the eggs, and goes again. If she cannot 
obtain food without leaving her nest too long, she ordinarily 
pines with hunger. 

4. After the chickens are hatched, why does the hen 
brood over and protect them $ At all other times, when not 
setting, she perches upon a pole ; nothing would induce her 
to expose herself upon the ground. She seems to prize the 
comfort and protection of her young above her own safety. 
How does she know that they require covering ? She does 
not need any herself. Such a covering spread over her 
would be very oppressive. What has taught her, that the 
same genial warmth which hatched the chickens, is, for a 
time, required to chensh them ? 

5. How is it that all hens have the same method of call- 
ing their chickens ? They can make a variety of other 
noises, but when they call their young, they uniformly cluck. 
It is not because they remember that their parent clucked 
to them, when they were young ; for those hatched and 
raised artificially, do thus. And this cluck, all chickens, 
from the first, readily understand. If there be ducks or 
goslins among them, to these the cluck is unnatural. Slow 
to regard it, they stray from their guardian and plunge into 
the water, despite of her entreaties. Hens cluck only 
while setting and brooding ; the ordinary cluck seeming 
-designed to inform others of their engagement ; and their 
peculiar rapid cluck, to call their chickens to food or from 
danger. 

6. Why do hens and all other animals, after cherishing 
their young till they are able to take care of themselves, 
become as indifferent towards them as to all others of their 
species f We can readily see, that if the paternal and filial 



44 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

affection were retained among them, as it is among human 
beings, it would become a source of immense evil to man ; 
and perhaps, as animals have not reason to control it, 
lead to their ultimate extermination. The answer must be 
found, where we must look for the answers to all our inqui- 
ries upon this point, in that power or law of instinct, which 
we interpret, the wisdom of the Creator, operating through 
animal mind as its instrument. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEK III. 

"What place does instinct hold in brutes ? Has man instinct ? Define 
instinct. What have animals in common with man? What has man 
•which the brute has not 1 What is the first distinction between instinct 
and reason 1 Illustrate this in the case of the child. In the case of the 
chicken. The second distinction between instinct and reason 1 Explain 
this. The third distinction ? What does the entire range of instinct em- 
brace 1 What is said of each species ? — The eagle, the duck, the cat, 
&c. ? How is it with reason ? What is said of Bees ? Butterflies ? Spiders ? 
The mining spider ? Fishes ? The violet crab 1 Queries concerning the 
hen: — Providing a nest — setting — not allowing the eggs to become 
cold — brooding — clucking — becoming alienated from her offspring'? 
Where must the answer be found ? 



CHAPTER IV 



NATUKE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 



Inquiries concerning the human mind are of two kinds, 
ontological and psychological. The former respect its sub- 
stance ; the latter its 'phenomena. As we can know little 
or nothing of the former, true philosophy is mostly concerned 
with the latter. Some would reject or postpone all onto- 
logical inquiries ; but when we are about to discourse upon 
any subject, it is of some importance to settle, so far as pos- 
sible, what cannot, as well as what can, be known of it. 



DEFINITION OF THE MIND. 

What, then, is the mind ? It is not a property, or append- 
age ; it is a living and conscious being. It is not something 
that man possesses ; it is what he is. It is that which he 
designates when he says, I. Annihilate the mind, and you 
annihilate the man. The body is an instrument; it is a 
tool, a thing. The mind is an intelligent agent. In popu- 
lar language, a man speaks of his mind as something distinct 
from himself. He then means to designate his mental 
powers, or to speak of the mind in distinction from the 
body. But, in strict philosophical accuracy, the mind is 
the man. " Do you think," said Socrates, after he had 
swallowed the fatal cup, " that the body which you will 
soon see laying here, cold and stiff, is myself? I shall be 
gone." 



46 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



CREATION OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

However curiously the Creator's hand might have wrought 
the frame of the first man, had not the more wonderful 
work been performed, the essential prerogatives of the man 
would have been wanting. There might have been an eye, 
wrought in the most finished style of artistic skill ; but that 
eye could not see ; an ear, but it could not hear ; a hand, 
but it could have no cunning ; a tongue, but it could not 
speak ; — there would have been only a mass of senseless 
organized matter. But the breath of the Almighty rendered 
that matter instinct with living mind ; — it was by virtue of 
this, that those eyes opened on creation, and a world of won- 
ders burst on the vision. Those ears were saluted with the 
melodies of rejoicing nature ; — the taste was gratified with 
delicious fruits ; the thirst assuaged with crystal waters ; 
the touch saluted with downy carpets and soft breezes ; the 
smell regaled with spicy breezes and sweet odors, — because 
the living mind was there. Lifting the kindling eye upon 
this bright creation, every part of which, like a polished 
mirror, reflected its Maker's image to the sinless mind, man 
awoke to those exalted strains, in which the morning stars 
sang together and the sons of Grod shouted for joy. 



THE ESSENCE OF MIND. 

By the essence of mind we denote its substance, or that 
of which it is made. Respecting this, philosophy is at a 
stand. The learned and the ignorant are alike at fault 
here. Indeed, the more we truly learn, the more are we 
convinced of our utter ignorance on this point. " He, 
indeed, it may always safely be presumed, knows least of 
the mind, who thinks that he knows its substance best. 
' What is the soul ? ' was a question once put to Marivaux. 
' 1 know nothing of it,' he answered, < but that it is spiritu- 
al and immortal.' ' Well,' said his friend, ' let us ask 
Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is.' ' No,' cried 



NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 47 

Marivaux, ' ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too 
much good sense to hnovj any more about it than we do? " * 

Equally ignorant are we respecting the essence of matter. 
Here is, perhaps, a lesson for us, in some future stage of 
being. To resolve the essence of mind, or of matter, into 
its properties, is unphilosophical. It is confounding cause 
with effect. Yet some philosophers have perpetrated this 
blunder ; — they have made the mind a string of exercises, 
a rope of sand. Others have supposed the essence of the 
mind to be caloric. This theory was, for a time, popular 
with some of the French naturalists ; but it is liable to the 
same objection, which exists against the theory that caloric 
is life. 

Nor does the theory of monads, held by Leibnitz, — that 
supposes ultimate elementary living atoms or beings, without 
divisions, all their qualities being strictly internal — make 
a single advance in solving the problem in question. Even 
if the theory be admitted, it is a mere solution of phe- 
nomena ; it does not reach the point, which its distinguished 
advocate contemplated — the essence of being. This theory, 
in some form, has a much higher antiquity than Leibnitz. 
" This atheistic system of the world," says Cudworth, " that 
makes all things to be materially and mechanically neces- 
sary, without a God, is built upon a peculiar physiological 
hypothesis, different from what hath been generally received 
for many ages ; which is called by some atomical or corpus- 
culae, by others mechanical." f This learned author traces 
the theory beyond Epicurus and Plato, up to Democritus 
and Leucippus. It is, however, much changed and modified 
on its long way to the modern schools. 



TRUE PHILOSOPHY LIMITS HER INQUIRIES AT THIS POINT. 

In consequence of not considering our limited capabilities, 
in respect to the subject before us, many fine minds have 
wasted their strength in idle speculations. Some have been 



* Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 96. 
t Intellectual System, Vol. L, p. 58. 



48 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

led to deny the existence of spirit ; others, the existence of 
matter ; so that betwixt both, the entire universe has been 
annihilated. It was by a similar speculation, that some of 
the ancient Platonists, the Brahmins, and other transcen- 
dentalists, were led to consider the human mind a portion of 
the Deity; — as if God, instead of creating anew, had 
divided himself into myriads of parts. " The particular 
souls of men and animals being but, as it were, so many 
pieces cut and sliced out of the great mundane soul ; so 
that, according to them, the whole corporeal universe, or 
mass of body, was one way or other a God." * 

Taking the hint from these, others have adopted the 
absurd notion of the re-absorption of the human soul into the 
Deity, at death ; while others have been led to consider it 
the result of physical organization, and of course perishable 
with the body. All such speculations throw no light upon 
the point at issue ; — they are strictly unphilosophical. 
They make none wiser ; they lead the simple astray. 



PROPERTIES OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

Although ignorant of the essence of mind, we have the 
same knowledge of its properties which we have of the 
properties of matter. In defining matter, we do not attempt 
to explain its essence; we only state its properties. We 
do not tell what it is, but what it does. It is that which has 
the property of extension, solidity, gravity, and, under cer- 
tain modifications, taste, beauty, fragrance. It is that 
which fills space, resists the touch, &c. So in defining 
mind. Instead of attempting to explain its essence, our 
statements are psychological ; — they respect only its phe- 
nomena. The human mind is that which has the properties 
of thought, volition, affection ; — that which thinks, desires, 
wills, loves, hates, enjoys, suffers. Thus, mind and matter 
have each properties peculiar to itself; each has a nature 
wholly its own. 

* Cudworth's Intellectual System, Vol. I., p. 112. 



NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 49 



IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 

We do not, perhaps, know all the powers of matter, nor 
all its modes of existence. This much, however, we know, 
that, if mind is in any sense material, the matter is different 
from any with which we are acquainted.* Matter has ea> 
tension, — it has length, breadth, and thickness ; it has 
top, bottom, and sides ; occupies room, or fills space, so that 
two portions of it cannot occupy the same space at once. 
All this is predicable of the smallest portion. But who has 
ascertained that mind has length, breadth, and thickness ; 
that it has top, bottom, and sides ; that it occupies space, 
so that matter is displaced by its presence ? We are taught 
that God, the infinite Mind, fills the universe ; yet matter 
is nowhere displaced by his presence. He may fill the 
universe with worlds, and yet himself fill the universe as 
completely as though these worlds did not exist. May he 
not create minds in his own likeness, to all eternity, and yet 
space be no more filled than it is now ? For ought that 
appears, all the minds in existence, both human and angelic, 
might inhabit a place no more capacious than the New 
Jerusalem described in the apocalypse, — and this, because 
extension is not a property of mind. It is strictly philo- 
sophical to suppose that all the happy spirits in the universe 
may assemble, at certain periods of joyful worship, within 
the precincts of the golden city. 

Another property of matter is solidity. -\ It resists the 
touch ; — we can feel it. If matter so ethereal even as 
light, touches the eye, the eye instantly feels it. But who ever 
touched or felt, physically, the presence of a mind ? Matter 
is also divisible. But is mind capable of being divided into 
pieces ? Not only the mind itself, but also its thoughts and 

* Dr. Priestly, in his Disquisitions relating to Matter and Spirit, en- 
deavors to show that the substance of mind and of matter is the same ; — 
but his argument rests only upon a mere theory of matter, the proof of 
which is beyond human reach. We are, as philosophers, bound to take 
the position of acknowledged ignorance on this point. 

fDr. Priestly denies this property to matter. The evidence of the 
property is inductive ; the denial of it a mere speculation. See Disquisi- 
tions on Matter and Spirit, Vol. I., pp. 5-40. 

5 



50 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

affections, are indivisible. Who ever heard of the fifth part 
of a doubt, the tenth part of a fear, the fifteenth part of a 
hope, or the twenty-fifth part of a love ? If the thoughts 
and affections are capable of division, they must have 
length, breadth, and thickness. But how strange to talk of 
the top of an idea, the south side of a hope, the east side of 
a fear, the northwest corner of a doubt. 

Matter has the secondary properties of taste and smell. 
But did ever a person taste or smell of a mind ? Has mind 
ever been ascertained to be either bitter, or sour, or sweet ? 
We apply these predicates, figuratively, to certain mental 
states ; but in no other sense. So, also, matter has gravity. 
But does mind, like matter, gravitate ? If the human mind 
is sometimes said to gravitate towards the earth, or to mount 
upward to the sky, we all understand this to be the language 
of figure. We thus see that mind has not a single property 
in common with matter. Hence, they who assert its mate- 
riality, assert gratuitously, and of course unphilosophically. 
Without pretending that there may not be some other kind 
of matter, of which we are ignorant, which constitutes the 
essence of mind, it is sufficient to say, that, so far as our 
knowledge of matter extends, the mind is strictly immate- 
rial. 



PERSONAL IDENTITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 

It is said that at fifty a man has not in his body a parti- 
cle of the matter which he had at five.* The form and 
appearance of his body are also greatly changed. So also 
the thoughts, emotions, affections, purposes, of the mind, 



* The reader may be curious to see a specimen of the free-thinkers' 
logic on this subject. " Sir John Cutter had a pair of worsted stockings, 
which his maid darned so often with silk, that they became at last a pair 
of silk stockings. Now, supposing those stockings of Sir John's endued 
with some degree of consciousness at every particular darning, they would 
have been sensible that they were the same individual pair of stockings, 
both before and after the darning ; and this sensation would have continued 
in them through all the succession of darnings ; and yet, after the last of 
all, there was not, perhaps, one thread left of the first pair of stockings : 
but they were grown to be silk stockings, as was said before."— Brown's 
Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 119. 



NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 51 

may be entirely altered. But, through all these corporeal 
and mental mutations, there is the same mind still. There 
is the same consciousness at fifty, as at five, — the same 
which is to continue forever. The man is truly one and 
the same person, and not another, through all time and for- 
ever. " The belief of our mental identity, we may safely 
conclude, is founded on an essential principle of our consti- 
tution ; in consequence of which, it is impossible for us to 
consider our successive feelings, without regarding them as 
truly our successive feelings, states, or affections of one 
thinking substance. The belief of our continued identity, 
is universal, immediate, irresistible."* "All mankind," 
says Reid, w place their personality in something that cannot 
be divided or consist of parts. A part of a person is a 
manifest absurdity. When a man loses his estate, his 
health, his strength, he is still the same person, and has 
lost nothing of his personality. If he has a leg or an arm 
cut off, he is the same person he was before. The ampu- 
tated member is no part of his person, otherwise it would 
have a right to a part of his estate, and be liable for a part 
of his engagements. It would be entitled to a share of his 
merit and demerit, which is manifestly absurd." j 

In truth, all the arguments ever raised against our iden- 
tity, are contradicted by the plainest and most peremptory 
decisions of common sense. It is hardly uncharitable to 
presume, that even the men who bewilder themselves with 
speculations subversive of this fact, have themselves really 
no confidence in what they teach. Not long since a man 
was condemned and executed for a crime perpetrated twenty 
years before. But if the mutations of body and mind de- 
stroy identity, the law was wrong; — the man who was 
guilty had long since passed away ; another man was hung 
in his place. 

# Philosophy of the Human Mind, by Dr. Thomas Brown, Vol. I., 
p. 126. 

t Reid's Works, Yol. II., p. 356. Charlestown edition. 



52 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER IV. 

Of how many kinds are inquiries concerning the human mind 3 What 
do they respect ? With which is true philosophy mostly concerned ? 
Define the mind : — Explain. What is said of the creation of the first 
man ? What is meant by the essence of mind ? What do we know 
of it 1 What is said of the question to Marivaux 1 What do we 
know of the essence of matter ? What is said of resolving the essence 
of mind or of matter into its properties? What do those who do this 
make the mind 1 What is said of the theory that makes the essence 
of mind caloric? What of the theory of monads? What has been 
the consequence of not duly limiting inquiries on this subject ? To what 
have some been led ? To what others ? What do we know of the mind ? 
How do we define matter ? How mind ? What is said of the materiality 
or Immateriality of mind 1 State the properties of matter, as contrasted 
with those of mind. What is the inference ? What is said respecting the 
personal identity of the human mind 1 By what are all the arguments 
against our identity contradicted % What is said of a man executed for 
murder ? 



CHAPTER V. 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 



Is the human mind immortal ? A more interesting in- 
quiry could scarcely engage attention. Whether we are to 
exist as intelligent beings only during the fleeting moments 
of this life, or forever beyond the grave, is a question some- 
times pressing upon us with resistless force. 

Childhood and youth, filled with earthly pleasures and 
prospects, often think little of the future ; but age, sickness, 
approaching death, awaken serious consideration, and send 
many an anxious thought beyond the grave. Indeed, there 
are to most persons quite early in life seasons of anxious 
inquiry concerning the future state. It is the design of this 
chapter, to meet persons thus disposed with such considera- 
tions as may serve to resolve doubts. 

WHY THE MIND'S IMMORTALITY IS DOUBTED. 

All virtuous men, in their senses, wish to live forever. 
Why, then, if our immortality is clearly revealed in the Scrip- 
tures, is it so often doubted ? The chief cause of doubt proba- 
bly lies in the difficulty of conceiving how we can exist as living 
and conscious beings, after our bodily senses have perished. 
We are at present so dependent upon them ; — our seeing, 
hearing, tasting ; our intercourse with friends, and with 
the world at large ; all our intellectual and social enjoy- 
ments, — are so related to the sensuous organs, that it is hard 
to see how the one can continue to exist without the other. At 
first view, all that pertains to and constitutes the living being, 
5* 



54 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

seems to perish with the body. But this view is hasty and 
superficial. A more philosophical and thorough observation 
leads to a very different conclusion. 



NO MAN CAN PROVE THAT THE MIND IS NOT IMMORTAL. 

No man has ever proved, nor can prove, that the human 
mind is not immortal. Much as man may doubt the argu- 
ments for its immortality, they must confess that they can bring 
no proof to the contrary. The most they can claim is, that 
they know nothing of what lies beyond the grave. But their 
ignorance can have no weight whatever in deciding the ques- 
tion. Ignorance is negative, and of course has no weight 
in a case to be decided only by evidence. We may then 
positively re-assert, that no man can show, that there is not 
another and higher mode of being awaiting us hereafter. 



NECESSARILY MORTAL. 

If matter is eternal, as materialists assert, and if the mind 
is material, then why may not the mind be as enduring as 
the matter of which it is made ? If matter is immortal, and 
matter makes mind, why may not mind be immortal ? But 
it is said that the mind is a result of a peculiar organization 
of matter, and as that organization is destroyed by death, 
the mind of course perishes. Let us see. 

The human mind is either a material substance, or a pure 
spirit. ^ If a material substance, it has been shown, in the 
preceding chapter, that the matter must be different from 
any with which our senses are conversant. It may then be 
matter of so refined and ethereal a character, as to be inde- 
pendent of this gross, visible organization. What we know of 
matter, in its more subtle forms, prove this. The wonder- 
ful operations of light, caloric, attraction, polarization, elec- 
tricity, galvanism, not only prove that matter exists in forms 
invisible to mortal eyes, but that the more refined and ethe- 
real the matter, the more mighty are its operations. What 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 55 

more subtle, more nearly approaching our conceptions of 
spirit, than caloric, or electricity ? And what more mighty ? 
If, then, the materialist chose to hold his ground, that there 
can be no existence which has not matter for its basis, we 
will here meet him on his own ground. In condescension 
to his habits of thought, grant him that the essence of what- 
ever exists must be matter ; still, as has been shown, the 
essence of mind may be matter so ethereal, as that the disso- 
lution of this visible body can have no effect to destroy it. 
The dissolution of the body may but serve to free it of the 
grossness which encumbers it, and send it forth on freer 
wing to higher modes of being. The question of the mind's 
immortality, does not then necessarily turn on the question 
of its immateriality. Even if man could prove the mind ma- 
terial, he could not prove it to be consequently mortal. 



ARGUMENT FROM THE MIND'S IMMATERIALITY. 

But if the mind is pure spirit, as all facts go to prove 
it, the dissolution of the body cannot destroy it. The disso- 
lution of the body is only & physical change. It is not an 
annihilation, but only a change of organic combinations. 
It does not of course touch a purely spiritual existence. The 
mind being strictly one and indivisible — not organic but 
spiritual, its existence is of course independent of the body. 
Dr. Thomas Brown holds on this subject the following argu- 
ment, which is so much to my purpose, that I quote it en- 
tire. " The body, though it may seem to denote a single 
substance, is but a single word invented by us to express 
many co-existing substances ; — every atom of it exists after 
death, as it existed before death ; and it would surely be 
a very strange error in logic, to infer, from the continuance 
of every thing that existed in the body, the distinction of that 
which, by its own nature, seemed as little mortal as any of 
the atoms which have not ceased to exist, — and to infer this 
annihilation of mind, not merely without any direct proof of 
the annihilation, but without a single proof of the distinc- 
tion of any thing else since the universe was founded. Death 
is a process, in which every thing corporeal continues to ex- 



56 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ist ; therefore, all that is mortal ceases to exist. It would 
not be easy to discover a link of any sort, that might be 
supposed to connect the two proportions of so very strange 
an enthymem. The very decay of the body, then, bears 
testimony, not to the destruction, but to the continuance of 
the undying spirit. — The mind is a substance distinct from 
the bodily organs, simple and incapable of addition or sub- 
traction, and nothing which we are capable of observing 
in the universe, has ceased since the universe began. — 
When every thing external fades upon our eye, does the 
spirit within, that almost gave its own life to every thing 
external, fade likewise, — or is there not something over 
which the accidents that injure or destroy our mortal frame 
have no power, — that continues still to subsist, in the 
dissolution of all our bodily elements, and that would con- 
tinue to subsist, though not the body only, but the earth, and 
the sun, and the whole system of external things, were to 
pass into new forms of combination, or to perish, as if they 
had never been, in the void of the universe ? There is with- 
in us an immortal spirit. We die to those around us, indeed, 
when the bodily frame, which alone is the instrument of 
communion with them, ceases to be an instrument, by the 
absence of the mind which is obeyed. But, though 
the body moulders into earth, the spirit which is of purer 
origin returns to its purer source. What Lucretius said of it 
is true, in a sense far nobler than that which he intended." * 

" Cedititem retro de terra quod fuit ante, 
In terrain ; sed quod missum est ex setheris oris, 
Id, rursus cocli fulgentia templa receptant." t 



HOW MUCH THIS ARGUMENT PROVES. 

Admitting the strict immateriality and unity of the mind, 
this argument for its independence of the body is irresistible. 
The argument does not prove it absolutely immortal; for 
the same Being who created it, has power to annihilate it. 
It does prove that the mere dissolution of the body does not 

* Brown's Phil., Vol. IL, p. 461. 
tDe llerum Nat. Lib. IL, V. 998-1000. 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 57 

necessarily destroy it. It proves that the conscious mind, 
for ought the death of the body can do, may continue to live. 
Unless some higher cause than merely the dissolution of the 
body destroys it, it will live forever. " No substantial entity 
ever vanisheth of itself into nothing ; for, if it did, then in 
length of time all midit come to be nothing. But the soul 
is a substantial entity really distinct from the body, and not 
the mere modification of it : and, therefore, when a man dies, 
his soul must still remain and continue to have a being some- 
where else in the universe." * It is only the man's instrument 
that perishes ; — the man himself may still live, with powers 
to assume another instrument adapted to a higher service. 



THE NATURAL IMMORTALITY OF THE MIND. 

It is a law of science, that whatever is, will continue to 
be, unless an adequate cause from without operate to destroy 
it. On this law philosophy raises an argument for what is 
called the mind's natural immortality. Reduced to a 
syllogism, it is this ; — The human mind exists. Whatever 
exists will not cease to exist, unless some adequate cause 
destroy it. — The dissolution of the body is not a cause ade- 
quate to destroy the mind : — therefore, the mind will con- 
tinue to exist after the body perishes. 

This argument would be conclusive, if there were no higher 
cause than the dissolution of the body, which can annihilate 
the mind. As it stands, it proves the immortality of brutes, 
as well as of men : — that is, unless we suppose, with some, 
that brutes have no minds. In the preceding chapter, rea- 
sons were given for believing that He who creates the mind 
or instinct of the brute, annihilates it at death. Other rea- 
sons will be furnished in a future place. Let us, at present, 
confine attention to the human mind : — Having shown that 
the dissolution of the body does not destroy it, we will show 
reasons for believing that no other cause ever will. 

* Cudworth's Intellectual System, Vol. I, p. 95. 



58 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED. 

When we are fully convinced that the death of the body 
does not necessarily destroy the mind — that we may be as 
truly living and conscious beings beyond the grave as here 

— we find no difficulty in believing ourselves immortal. 
The Rubicon is passed ; — we are on the other side of death, 

— the king of terrors is vanquished. We then as readily 
believe that we may live on, beyond the grave, as we now 
believe that we shall live till death overtakes us. But the ques- 
tion, whether we shall actually exist as conscious minds for- 
ever, can be finally settled only by revelation from God. On 
this subject he has made two revelations, — one by his Works, 
another by his Word. 



THE FIRST REVELATION OF OUR IMMORTALITY. 

The nature of the human mind, its tendencies, aspira- 
tions, instincts ; its relations, doings, hopes ; its distinguish- 
ing intellectual and moral powers, — all conspire, harmoniz- 
ing with the more luminous teachings of the divine Word, to 
teach us that we are immortal beings. 

Man is ever throwing his thoughts, his hopes, his imagin- 
ings, into the boundless future. So truly does the human 
mind live in the future, that if absolutely cut off from all 
prospect of continued existence, it could hardly endure the 
present moment. In the most vigorous and positive impulses 
of his nature, he is not a mere creature of to-day, but of all 
coming time. If he fails to live in view of living forever, he 
acts unnaturally. Did the Creator implant this prospective- 
ness in our nature for nothing ? or only to sport with and 
disappoint it ? 



DESIRE FOR POSTHUMOUS REPUTATION. 

A desire for posthumous reputation is natural to man. 
Who that is not in a perverted state of mind, is indifferent 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 59 

respecting the estimation in which he shall be held amongst 
men after his decease ? This desire is founded on an expec- 
tation of a continued existence. Were a man annihilated 
at death, his reputation, so far as he is concerned, might as 
well be annihilated with him. But his reputation does live, 
vainly indeed to Mm, if he no longer lives to possess it. 
When we think of the reputations of a Nero and of a Wash- 
ington, sustaining their respective relations to the living 
minds to whom they belong, they have real importance to 
their owners. But if their respective owners have ceased to 
be, the reputation of the one is of no more value to him than 
that of the other. Why do we instinctively tread so lightly 
on the ashes of the dead, and count the defaming of them a 
sacrilege, but that it is in our nature to feel that their 
reputation is dear to them ? 



THE POWERS AND GRASPINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND ARGUE 
ITS IMMORTALITY. 

The human mind expatiates in illimitable space and dila- 
tion. The mighty reaches of man's thoughts, are out of all 
proportion to the little time and space in which his body 
lives. It is but a point of time and space, that the body 
occupies ; — the mind stretches itself every way into infinity. 
" The sublime attainments which man has been capable of 
making in science and the wonders of his own creative art, 
in that magnificent scene to which he has known how to give 
new magnificence, have been considered by many, as them- 
selves proofs of the immortality of a being so richly endowed. 
When we view him, indeed, comprehending in his single 
conceptions the history of ages that have preceded him, and 
not content with the past, anticipating events that are to be- 
gin, only in ages as remote in futurity as the origin of the uni- 
verse is in the past, measuring the distance of the remotest 
planets, and naming in what year of other centuries the na- 
tions that are now gazing with astonishment on some comet 
are to gaze on it in its return, — it is scarcely possible for us 
to believe that a mind, which seems equally capacious of 
what is infinite in space and time, should be only a creature, 



60 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

whose brief existence is measurable by a few points of space 
and a few moments of eternity." * 



THE IDEA OF OUR IMMORTALITY UNIVERSAL. 

The immortality of the human mind has ever been, in 
some sense, almost universally admitted. Even the rudest 
pagan and savage nations have entertained some vague ideas 
of a kind of shadowy, ghostly, mystical existence hereafter. 
The metempsychoses of the heathen systems are a part of 
the same crude speculations. It is, however, a prevailing sen- 
timent in these speculations, that the mind, when separated 
from the body, is but a feeble, half-conscious existence ; 
that the minds of brutes, as well as of men, are immortal ; 
and that there is, in the progress of ages, an interchange of 
bodies and states between them. That the existence of the 
mind absolutely depends upon the bodily organization, is an 
opinion which has ever been confined to a very few minds. 
It is due to the wisest of the heathen philosophers to say, 
that they never entertained so gross an idea. 



OPINIONS OF PAGAN PHILOSOPHERS. 

Pythagoras, the renowned philosopher of Samos, nearly 
five hundred years before Christ ; Socrates, of Athens, the 
most celebrated of the ancient philosophers, four hundred years 
before Christ ; Plato, the illustrious founder of the school 
bearing his name, three hundred and fifty years before Christ; 
Aristotle, the distinguished pupil of Plato, and founder of 
another school ; Cicero, the brightest star in the firmament of 
Rome, equally brilliant as a statesman and a philosopher, who 
flourished a century before Christ ; Seneca, the wise philoso- 
pher, a teacher of Nero, — all these masters in philosophy, 
and their numerous pupils, favored with uncommonly keen 
mental vision, and perhaps with some faint adumbrations of 
revealed light, were enabled to see and teach the spiritual 

* Brown's Phil., Vol. II, p. 476. 



IMMOKTALHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 61 

and immortal nature of the human mind. Their conceptions 
were however faint, their thoughts confused, and many of 
their speculations wild and fanciful. Pythagoras was the 
first to teach explicitly the doctrine of metempsycosis ; and 
most of the great philosophers succeeding him imbibed more 
or less of his speculations. They exhibit striking examples 
of great and vigorous minds groping in twilight. These are 
among the original thinkers, of whom the world has so few. 



THE MIND'S ESSENTIAL INDEPENDENCE OF THE BODY. 

We shall have occasion to see, hereafter, the mind's con- 
stituted dependence on the bodily senses, as instruments for 
acquiring knowledge. But after knowledge has entered the 
mind, the mind can operate without these instruments. In 
the last moments of life, in swoons and trances, when all the 
senses have been locked up as in death's cold embrace, and 
every avenue of bodily communication with the mind has 
been closed, the mind has realized its most intense activity ; 
it has then enjoyed the most splendid visions ; it has walked 
amidst the flowers of paradise ; it has gazed upon the splen- 
dors and drank the melodies of brighter worlds than this. 
We have abundant testimony to numerous facts of this de- 
scription, some of which will hereafter be given. 

If it be replied, that in the cases supposed the body was not 
actually dead ; that does not affect our inference ; — for as 
to all power of communion with things visible and real, as an 
instrument of the spirit, it was dead. That bodily eye did 
not see ; that ear did not hear, that hand did not feel. Yet 
brilliant visions passed before the mind, unearthly music 
poured upon it, and the most exquisite and intense joys 
were realized. The mind saw, but not with the bodily eye ; 
it heard, but not with the bodily ear ; it felt, but not with 
the bodily senses. It is thus evident that the mind can live, 
and assert all its glorious prerogatives, independently of the 
body. 



62 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



PROOF PROM THE SACRED SCRIPTURES. 

Having given some of the principal reasons, drawn from 
the light of nature, for believing the human mind immortal, 
it comports with our design to refer to the sacred Scriptures 
for our final and positive proof. This source of proof is in- 
deed of itself sufficient ; but as philosophy is now our study, 
it is our duty to attend to her teachings. Having attended 
to these, it is both interesting and useful to observe how they 
harmonize with the higher and more luminous teachings of 
the divine Word. 



THE OLD TESTAMENT. 

A state of existence and of everlasting rewards beyond the 
grave, was revealed to the saints of the early ages, and it is 
expressly recorded, as a monument to their excellence, that 
they hence deduced their motives of action. " These all died 
in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen 
them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced 
them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims 
on the earth." — "They desired a better country, even an 
heavenly, wherefore God was not ashamed to be called their 
God : " — as if he would have been ashamed to own them as 
his heirs, on any other condition than that of their recogniz- 
ing their immortality, and acting in view of it. 



THE NEW TESTAMENT. 

Clearest of all is the revelation of our eternal existence, 
by Jesus Christ, " who hath abolished death, and brought 
life and immortality to light through the gospel" Heathens 
obscurely dreamed it ; philosophers argued it ; — Socrates, 
Plato, Cicero, made it appear reasonable : — Abraham, 
Moses, Job, saw it as through a glass darkly ; — but Jesus 
Christ brought it to light. The last cloud was dispersed, 
when an invisible hand rolled the stone from the door of the 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 63 

sepulchre, and the Conqueror ascended with triumph into 
the heavens. It was in the light thus shed upon the grave, 
that the apostles labored and suffered reproach, declaring 
that for thsni to live was Christ, and to die, gain ; and that 
they even desired to depart and be with Christ, which was far 
better than to abide in the flesh. Walking in the same light, 
all the truly good and noble of the earth, all the heroes and 
martyrs of the cross, all the friends of truth and righteous- 
ness, have ascended the shining path to higher worlds. To 
adduce isolated proofs from the Scriptures, were quite super- 
fluous ; for it is the acknowledged basis of its religion, — the 
golden warp, into which are woven all its doctrines, precepts, 
motives, hopes. If Christianity be truth, the endless exist- 
ence of man as a rational being is certain. 



THE IMMORTALITY OE THE MIND A CHEERING TRUTH. 

This view of the human mind, apart from moral consider- 
ations, disarms death of its terrors. We no longer fear that 
which kills the body, but has no power to kill the soul. We 
perceive the true dignity, value, and security of our exist- 
ence ; — and, if true to our nature, we feel it in our hearts 
to rise above the caprices and disappointments of earth, and 
fasten our hopes in the skies. Assured that the dissolution 
of the body is but the freeing of the spirit from its prison of 
clay, that death to the righteous is but the passage to a 
higher and more congenial mode of life, we feel inspired with 
more than earthly desires, that this imperishable flame, 
which the breath of the Almighty has kindled, may burn 
brightly upwards towards the eternal throne and mingle its 
incense with that of angelic beings. 

How cheering to anticipate a state, in which the light now 
freely shed by science, ivill break forth into the full splendors 
of noon day. " While the mind rests, with a pleasing satis- 
faction, on these great deductions of philosophy, it yet pants 
for a fuller and higher revelation. If the man of clay has 
been honored with such magnificent apartments, and fed at 
such a luxurious table, may not his undying and reasoning soul 
count upon a spiritual palace and sigh for that intellectual 



64 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

repast at which the Master of the feast is to disclose his se- 
crets ? In its rapid, continued expansion, the mind, conscious 
of its capacity for a higher sphere, feels even now that 
it is advancing to a goal more distant and more cheering than 
the tomb. Its energies increase and multiply under the 
encumbrance of age ; and even when man's heart is turning 
into bone, and his joints into marble, his mind can soar to 
its highest flight, and seize with its firmest grasp. Nor do 
the affections plead less eloquently for a future home. Age 
is their season of warmth and genial emotion. The objects 
long and fondly clasped to our bosom have been removed 
by' Him who gives, and who takes what he gives ; and 
lingering in the valley of bleeding and of broken hearts, we 
yearn for that break of day which is to usher in the eternal 
morn — for the house of many mansions which is already 
prepared for us, and for the promised welcome to the thresh- 
hold of the blest, where we shall meet again the loved and 
lost, and devote the eternity of our being to the service of 
its Almighty Author," * 



THE ETERNAL GROWTH OF THE MIND. 

The immortality of the mind is a pledge of its eternal pro- 
gression. All its powers increase in strength and compass 
by use, and, unless interfered with by bodily infirmity, this 
process continues to the end of life. The legitimate infer- 
ence is, that when no longer subject to interruptions from 
physical causes, it will steadily grow forever. We cannot 
avoid this inference, at least in regard to virtuous minds. 
The effect of moral virtue on all minds are health, vigor, 
progression. Shoot the eye then down the long track of ages 
and behold that mind, now tabernacled in this body, if true 
to itself, comprehending more knowledge, more capacity for 
enjoyment, more actual felicity, than the aggregate of all 
these ever yet possessed by the human race. Let the ever 
expanding circles of eternity continue to move round, and 
we at length reach the point, where the attainments of that 

* North British Eevicw. 



IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 65 

mind leave those which Gabriel has now made, in almost 
sightless distance. This is what the sacred writers call glory 
added to glory — exceeding and jet exceeding forever — as 
the fruit of a life true to our immortality : — an immortal 
mind, forever speeding its way, on the wings of eternity, 

TOWARDS THE INFINITE PERFECTIONS OF JEHOVAH. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER V. 

Subject of this chapter ? What renders it peculiarly interesting ? De- 
sign of the chapter 1 Why do men doubt their immortality % How does 
it seem at first view ? To what does a more philosophical observation 
lead 1 What has no man been able to prove ? What is said of human 
ignorance on this subject 1 ? Suppose the mind material — what then ? 
State the argument. Suppose the mind pure spirit — state the argument 
in this view. Does this prove the mind absolutely immortal 1 Why not % 
What does it prove ? State the argument for the mind's natural immortali- 
ty. Under what circumstances would it be conclusive ? What does it 
prove as it stands 1 State what is said of us, when convinced that the 
death of the body does not destroy the mind. How is this question finally 
settled 1 How many revelations has God made to us ? What is said of 
the nature of the human mind &c. 1 What is said of man's ever throwing 
his thoughts, &c, into the future 1 What of desire for posthumous repu- 
tation ? Nero and Washington % In what dees the mind expatiate % 
State the substance of what is said here. State what is said respecting 
the idea of our immortality being universal. State the opinions of pagan 
philosophers. What is said of men in the last moments of life — in swoons, 
trances, &c. % Suppose it be said that the body, in these states, was not 
dead, what is the answer % State the proof from the Old Testament. 
From the New Testament. Why is the mind's immortality a cheering 
truth 1 Of what is it a pledge 1 State the argument and inference. 



CHAPTER VI. 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 



It is an inquiry of much philosophical interest, How the 
human mind comes in possession of its first knoivledge. Is 
the mind created with the elements or germs of knowledge 
within it f Or is it created with only the powers to acquire 
knowledge ? Are the elements of its earliest knowledge 
innate or acquired? This has been the great question of 
the schools. 

Of the advocates for the doctrine of innate ideas, Plato 
among the ancients, and Des Cartes among the moderns, are 
eminent. The Kantian philosophy of Germany, and the 
transcendental speculations generally, are in some form 
favorable to this theory ; and, in fact, more or less depend- 
ent upon it. Among the advocates for the theory, that all 
our ideas are acquired, Aristotle among the ancients, and 
Locke among the moderns, are most prominent. Indeed, 
Locke has the honor to be the first who brought this theory 
into full symmetrical form, and impressed it on the convic- 
tions of a large part of the thinking world. After all the 
merciless attacks upon this dry philosopher, probably no 
name is to this day greater in mental science than John 
Locke. 



THE THEORY OF INNATE IDEAS. 

The theory of innate ideas is this: — that the human 
mind is created with certain ideas or elements of knowledge 
inherent in it, as part of the mind itself, or at least as its 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 67 

concreated furniture. All minds are supposed to have 
original ideas, since without some innate capital with which 
to commence, it is thought the mind could never obtain any 
knowledge whatever. Comparison is made between a human 
mind and a seed. The seed is the embryo of the future 
plant. The plant is but the development and growth of 
what was concreated with the seed, and wrapped up in 
miniature within it. As the seed, when under the influence 
of the warm and moist earth, spontaneously germinates and 
puts forth the embryo plant within it, so the human mind, 
when subjected to appropriate influences, is supposed spon- 
taneously to germinate and put forth into actual knowledge 
the ideas inherent in its nature. 



ANSWER TO THE ABOVE. 

The analogy fails in the essential point, and therefore 
furnishes no evidence. The human mind is an intelligent 
spirit; the plant is mere animated matter. Each has a 
nature unlike the other, and peculiar to itself. The mind 
is active, the plant is passive. The mind is a living intel- 
lect, and has therefore the power to acquire knowledge ; — 
the seed is vitalized matter, without intellect, and can, 
therefore, only be made to develop itself. To suppose that 
the mind germinates knowledge, instead of acquiring it, is 
to rob it of its distinguishing nature, and reduce it to a kind 
of vegetable. 



THE THEORY OF LOCKE. 

The theory of Locke is, that the human mind is created 
without any ideas whatever, — that in this respect it resem- 
bles a sheet of white paper, on which nothing is written, but 
on which ideas of every description may be imprinted.* 
He maintains that our first knowledge is obtained in the 

=* Essay concerning Human Understanding. Book II., Chap. I., Sec. 2, 
p. 73. New York edition, 1818. 



68 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

form of simple ideas, through the senses ; that by means of 
its reflecting powers, in the use of capital thus received 
and additions continually made through the senses, the 
mind gradually rises to its highest attainments. His theory 
is, then, briefly this, that all our knowledge is obtained by 
" sensation and reflection." This theory, with some 
modifications, is now generally received in Great Britain 
and America. 



WHAT LOCKE MEANS BY " IDEA." 

It was supposed by the ancient philosophers, that as mind 
is so unlike matter, the former can hold no intercourse with 
the latter, without something between them acting as a kind 
of mediator. Hence the notion of an image or species* 
intervening between the organ of sense and the percipient 
mind. The mind was not supposed to perceive the object 
itself, but the image of it. This image was either innate, 
and the mind was only excited to notice it, or it was first 
introduced to the mind through the eye. The former was 
the theory of Plato ; the latter of Locke. Neither pretends 
to tell us exactly what it is, but all agree to make it some- 
thing resembling its object ; as far removed from matter as 
possible, and yet not exactly spirit : — since, if it were sup- 
posed to be matter, on the one hand, or spirit, on the other, 
it might as well be dispensed with. This something the 
ancient schoolmen called a phantasm, notion, or species, 
and Locke called it an idea. " It being that term," he 
says, " which, I think, serves best to stand for whatsoever is 
the object of the understanding when a man thinks, I have 
used it to express whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, 
species, or whatever it is which the mind can be employed 
about in thinking." * It hence seems that Locke employed 
the term in accommodation to the usage of the schools, and 
whether he meant to endorse the then current speculations 
respecting an intervening phantasm, or only used a term of 



* Essay concerning Human Understanding, Vol. I, p. 28. New York 
edition, 1818. 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 69 

accommodation, meaning by idea what we do, is perhans. 
doubtful.* 

If any insist that he did countenance the notion of a lite- 
ral image, they still need not reject what is true in the 
teachings of the great philosopher, because associated with a 
baseless speculation. This speculation he found in the 
schools ; it was not originally his ; nor were his inquiries 
directed to this point. It was the origin, existence, and 
agency of the idea, not the matter of it, that engaged his 
attention. That something, whatever it be, (and Locke did 
not undertake to tell what it is) which we have in our minds 
when we have what we call an idea of an object, is what he 
undertakes to prove not innate. But the reader may be 
curious to know something respecting the speculations of the 
ancients on this subject. 



VIEWS OF ARISTOTLE AND OTHERS. 

" By Aristotle and the Peripatetics, the images presented 
to our senses were called sensible species or forms; those 
presented to the memory or imagination were called phan- 
tasms ; and those presented to the intellect were called 
intelligible species; and they thought, that there can be no 
perception, no imagination, no intellection, without species 
or phantasms. What the ancient philosophers called species, 
sensible and intelligible, and phantasms, in later times, and 
especially since the time of Des Cartes, came to be called 
by the common name of ideas. 

" The Cartesians divided our ideas into three classes, 
those of sensation, of imagination, and of pure intellection. 
Of the objects of sensation and imagination, they thought 
the images are in the brain, but of objects that are incorpo- 
real, the images are in the understanding, or pure intellect. 
Locke, taking the word idea in the same sense as Des Cartes 
had done before him, to signify whatever is meant by phan- 

* Cousin seems, on this point, to have misapprehended Locke and done 
him injustice. Fairly interpreted, Locke may he supposed to attach to 
the term idea essentially the same meaning that philosophers of this day 
do 5 hence the formidable artillery of Cousin is aimed at a man of straw. 
See Cousin's Psychology. 



70 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tasm, notion, or species, divides ideas into those of sensation 
and those of reflection ; meaning by the first, the ideas of 
all corporeal objects, whether perceived, remembered, or 
imagined ; by the second, the ideas of the powers and 
operations of our minds." * It should be observed, that both 
the Platonists, who held to innate ideas, and the Peripate- 
tics, who held that our ideas are obtained through the 
organs of sense, agree in this, that material objects act on 
the mind only through the medium of certain forms or 
images representing them. 



THE NEXT STEP. — MALEBRANCH. 

Father Malebranch seems to have become somewhat more 
refined and modern, in his explanation of the matter. " I 
suppose," he says, " that every one will grant, that we per- 
ceive not external objects immediately and of themselves. 
"We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity of objects without 
us ; and it is not at all likely that, upon such occasions, the 
soul sallies out of the body, in order to be present to the 
objects perceived. She sees them not, therefore, by them- 
selves ; and the immediate object of the mind is not the 
thing perceived, but something which is intimately united 
to the soul ; and it is that which I call an idea : — so that, 
by the word idea, I understand nothing else but that which 
is nearest to the mind when we perceive any object. It 
ought to be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's 
perceiving any object, it is absolutely necessary that the 
idea of that object be actually present to it. Of this it is 
not possible to doubt. The things which the soul perceives 
are of two kinds. They are either in the soul, or they are 
without the soul. Those that are in the soul, are its own 
thoughts ; that is to say, all its different modifications, 
[operations.] The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving 
these things. But with regard to things without the soul, 
we cannot perceive them but by means of ideas." f Here 
the notion of intermediate forms, or images, is partly relin- 

* Rcid's works, Vol. II., p. 135. Charlcstown edition, 1814. 
t Recherche de la Verity p. 125. 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 71 

quished, — relinquished as related to inward perceptions; 
and it is further conceded, that by the idea of an external 
object, nothing more is intended than that which is nearest 
to the mind when an object is perceived. This, it will be 
seen, is a considerable advance towards to the more simple 
and satisfactory view which obtains at present. 



THE PRESENT VIEW. — REID. 

The theory of an image, intervening between the mind 
and outward objects of perception, is now wholly discarded. 
The mind is believed to be so constituted, as to hold direct 
intercourse with the material world, through the senses. 
That mankind should have been some thousands of years in 
arriving at a fact so simple and obvious, can be accounted 
for only by their excessive fondness for explaining every 
thing, and their not having drawn the line of demarcation 
around the limits of human knowledge. The writer who 
has done most to brush away the cobwebs of the ancient 
metaphysics, on this subject, is Thomas Held.* He pro- 
poses no theory of perception in place of that which he 
demolishes ; . — in the spirit of sound philosophy, he leaves 
the inexplicable without attempting to explain it. 

There is no need of supposing any image or phantasm 
between the mind and the object without. All we know on 
this subject is, that when objects are presented to our organs 
of sense, certain effects or changes are produced in the 
mind, whereupon the mind perceives them.t Some things 
affect our senses which cannot be perceived. There may 
be sensation without perception. Every true idea of an 
object, then, instead of being an image or phantasm, by 
means of which we perceive the object, or what the object 



* Thomas Brown denies to Heid the honor of originality in this matter ; 
but after considerable examination, I am satisfied that he was the first 
to set the notion of an intervening image effectually aside. See Brown's 
Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 256. — The theory of an intervening image, or 
idea, was called " The Ideal System." 

t See Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, &c, by John Aber- 
crombie. Boston edition, 1845. 



72 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

is like, is the result of perception. The ancient metaphy- 
sicians put effect for cause. A man's perceiving an animal, 
gives him a true idea of it ; — it is not his idea of it, that 
enables him to 'perceive it. In other words, perception gives 
the idea ; not idea the perception. This view sweeps en- 
tirely away the supposed necessity for innate ideas. 



PRESENT STATE 0E THE QUESTION RESPECTING THE 
ORIGIN OE KNOWLEDGE. — LOCKE. 

The question, Whether our knowledge originates through 
the senses, is now considered of far less importance than it 
was formerly ? * That all our knowledge is to be referred to 
the senses, according to the extreme doctrine of the sensu- 
ous philosophy, is a theory maintained by scarcely any of 
the present day. Locke himself, the great advocate of the 
sensuous philosophy, did not carry his doctrine to this ex- 
treme. His own account of the matter reads thus : — 
" The other fountain, from which experience furnisheth the 
understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations 
of our own minds within us, as they are employed about the 
ideas they have got ; which operations, when the soul comes 
to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding 
with another set of ideas, which could not be had from 
things without ; and such are perception, thinking, doubt- 
ing, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the differ- 
ent actions of our own minds ; which we, being conscious of, 
and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our 
understandings as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies 
affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has 
wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having 
nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, 
and might properly enough be termed internal sense. But 
as I call the other sensation, so I call this reflection, the 
ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflect- 
ing on its own operations within itself. By reflection, then, 
in the following part of this discourse, I would be understood 

* Sec Stuart's Philosophy, Book I, p. 61. 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 73 

to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its own opera- 
tions, and the manner of them ; by reason whereof there 
come to be ideas of these operations in the understanding. 
These two, I say, namely, external material things, as the 
objects of sensation, and the operations of our own minds 
within, as the objects of reflection, are to me the only 
originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. 
The term operations, here, I use in a large sense, as com- 
prehending not barely the actions of the mind about its 
ideas, but some sorts of passions, arising sometimes from 
them ; such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from 
any thought." * 



OPINIONS OF SUBSEQUENT WRITERS. 

The theory of Locke, as thus explained, has been admit- 
ted by subsequent philosophers of the Scotch and English 
schools to this day. Thomas Held substantially admits it, 
while he strenuously resists the theory of intermediate 
images. t Dugald Stewart, although opposed to the 
peculiar theory of causation and of ideal images, ascribed 
by some to Locke, and a decided advocate for spiritual 
efficiency independently of matter, yet yields the right to 
Locke on this point. "The amount of the doctrine," he 
says, " is nothing more than this ; that the first occasions on 
which our various intellectual faculties are exercised, are 
furnished by the impressions made on our organs of sense, 
and, consequently, that without these impressions, it would 
have been impossible for us to arrive at the knowledge of 
our faculties. Agreeably to this explanation of the doc- 
trine, it may undoubtedly be said with plausibility, and I am 
inclined to believe with truth, that the occasions on which 
all our notions are formed, are furnished either immediately 
or ultimately by sense. But, if I am not much mistaken, 
this is not the meaning which is commonly annexed to the 
doctrine, either by its advocates or their opponents. One 

* Essay. B. II, Chap. I., Sec. 4, p. 74. 

t Keid's Works, Vol. II., pp. 211 and 345. Charlestown edition, 1814. 

7 



74 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

thing at least is obvious, that, in this sense, it does not lead 
to those consequences, which have interested one party of 
philosophers in its defence, and another in its refutation." * 
The " consequences " here referred to, are its claimed alli- 
ance with materialism and tendencies to break down all dis- 
tinction between men and brutes, excepting such as arises 
from difference of animal organization. 

Thomas Brown, who seems to find pleasure in dealing 
severely, refusing much of the originality to Locke, usually 
allowed him ; denying to Reid all the credit of overthrowing 
the theory of ideal images, asserting that Des Cartes, Ar- 
nauld, Le Clerc, Hobbs, and many others, meant and taught 
much the same as he did, on this subject, and claiming to 
set up a new theory of cause and effect, yet gives his full 
assent to the doctrine of the sensuous origin of our first 
knowledge.! To the same intent, Prof. Upham says, " Were 
it not for impressions on the senses, which may be traced to 
objects external to them, our mental capabilities, whatever 
they may be, would in all probability have remained folded 
up, and have never been redeemed from a state of fruitless 
inaction. Hence, the process which is implied in the per- 
ception of external things, or what is commonly termed by 
Mr. Locke, sensation, may justly be considered the occasion, 
or the introductory step to all our knowledge. \ 



CONCLUSION. 

Having thus briefly surveyed the ancient and modern 
theories, in regard to the origin of human knowledge, the 
present writer may be allowed to state his own conclusion : — 
The human mind is created without any innate ideas what- 
ever. It bears no resemblance to things merely mechanical, 
chemical, vegetable, or animal; and all analogies drawn 
from them, to show the necessity of innate ideas, in order 
to a future development of knowledge, are utterly futile. 
The human mind is an intellectual being. A free, active, 

* Stewart's Philosophy, Book I., pp. 61-62. Boston edition, 1818. 
t See Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 267. Hallowcll edition, 1842. 
% Upham's Philosophy, p. 121. New York edition, 1846. 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 75 

discerning spirit, it is created -without any knowledge, or 
any ideas, but with ample powers and capacities to acquire 
them. Human ideas are not created by God ; they are the 
result of mental activity. As the mind is created, it has no 
ideas ; the moment it acts, it begins to have them. As it 
is first addressed through the senses, its first ideas are of 
sensuous origin. By the agency of these, those powers are 
awakened, by which the mind comes gradually into posses- 
sion of other and higher ideas not derived from the senses. 
Beginning with sensuous and accidental ideas, it gradually 
ascends to the apprehension of spiritual, abstract, absolute, 
essential truths. It rises from the less to the greater ; from 
the lower to the higher ; from facts to principles. Hence, 
the beginning of all true knowledge is in humility. 

But while it is admitted that our first ideas reach the 
mind through the organs of sense, it does not follow that 
unembodied minds may not receive, in other ways, all those 
ideas which we owe to sensation. Let us instance the case 
of seeing. The condition of the mind in the body, may be 
compared to that of a person in a dark prison. Confined in 
that prison, from his birth, he could have no idea of colors. 
Remove him from the prison, or let in a beam of light, and 
his mind instantly perceives them. That window which 
|dmits the light, may be compared to the eye. If the mind 
were unembodied, the eye would be unnecessary. The 
same may be true of all ideas received through the organs 
of sense.* Unembodied spirits, and spirits disembodied 
before the organs of sense have served, or when they have 
been wanting, may be so constituted, for ought we know, 
as to receive all kinds of knowledge, in a manner entirely 
independent of the body. 



DIFFERENT KINDS OF IDEAS. — COGNITION. 

It is obvious that mere ideas are not tantamount to knoivl- 
edge. An idea may be inadequate, confused, false, as well 

* " If we could suppose the case of a man who had lived all his life in 
the dark, he certainly could not see, but we should not say that the 
admission of light imparted to him the power of vision ; it only furnished 



76 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

as adequate, clear, and true.* There is, indeed, a sense 
in which every idea is real. When a man is conscious of 
entertaining an idea, he actually does entertain that idea. 
His consciousness does not deceive him. But if the 
idea is inadequate, — that is, if the type does not cor- 
respond to the anti-type, — it is properly called a false 
idea. When an idea is liable to be inadequate, or false, it is 
synonymous with opinion, notion, conjecture. When the 
idea is supposed to be exactly true, it is called cognition or 
knowledge. Idea may imply doubt, cognition implies com- 
plete conviction. Hence, idea is a more generic term than 
cognition. Idea stands for every thing in the mind, how- 
ever doubtful its object ; whereas cognition is restricted to 
what is known. The reader is particularly requested to 
notice this distinction, as it will be hereafter referred to, in 
an important connection. 



Simple and complex ideas. 

Another division of ideas is into simple and complex. 
Simple ideas imply a single sensation or perception. Thus, 
the idea of pain, quiet, fatigue ; 'of hardness, softness, round- 
ness ; of sweet, sour, bitter ; of length, breadth, height, &C* 
is a simple idea. All sensuous ideas, as they first enter 
the mind, are simple, and the mind is passive in receiving 
them.f ^ These are cognitions. We all agree to rely upon 
the testimony of our senses ; — what they teach us, we think 
we know. If the ideas that I get of sweet, sour, bitter, are 
by tasting them; of black, blue, red, are by seeing them; 
of length, breadth, height, are by feeling them, &c, those 
ideas are cognitions, — they are actual knowledge. 

When simple ideas are contemplated as united in an 
object, they make a complex idea. It is hence obvious that 

the circumstances which gave occasion to the exercise of sight." Aber- 

crombie's Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, p. 38. Boston edition, 
184.). 

* See Locke's Essay concerning Human Understanding, Book II, 
p. 261-284. N. Y. edition, 1814. 

t Locke's Essay, Book II., p. 113. 



ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 77 

all abstract ideas are simple, while concrete ideas may be 
either simple or complex, according as the object is viewed 
only as a unit, or as consisting of its parts or properties. 
The idea of a tree, considered as a unit, is a simple idea ; 
but when the tree is contemplated with reference to the 
various parts, and properties, the idea becomes complex. 
When I look upon a tree, the idea of it first enters my 
mind as a simple idea: — subsequent analysis renders it 
complex. By analyzing the tree, I get many ideas out of 
one ; — I recombine them, and now the idea of the tree 
enters my mind complex. To the common mind, water is a 
simple idea. The object it denotes was for ages considered 
an element, even by men of science. To the chemist, who 
has analyzed and recombined its elements, it is now a com- 
plex idea. Hence, ideas may be either absolutely or rela- 
tively simple.* The mind not only analyzes relatively sim- 
ple ideas into those absolutely simple, but it also combines 
absolutely simple ideas, received at first as such, into com- 
plex ones. There are, then, two ways which the mind 
takes with its simple ideas, received by sensation and reflec- 
tion, — first, the way of analysis, by which it resolves its 
relatively simple ideas into those absolutely simple ; second- 
ly, the way of synthesis, by which it combines its absolutely 
simple ideas into complex ones. Some philosophers would 
make the mind go only from generals to particulars ; t 



* I use the terms absolutely and relatively, merely for convenience. They 
must not be understood in the severest sense. In the present state of 
science, we do not always know what is really absolute. What one man 
supposes absolutely simple, another may know to be complex. The point 
most important here is this, — that simple ideas, received by sensation 
and reflection, are the mind's first ideas, — that all these are real cognitions, 
and that they are the materials or basis of all our future knowledge. 
" These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested 
and furnished to the mind only by those two ways, namely, sensation and 
reflection" — Locke's Essay, Vol. II., p. 83. 

t " It is not true that we begin by simple ideas, and then proceed to com- 
plex ideas. On the contrary, we begin with complex ideas, and from 
them proceed to more simple. The process of the mind, in the acquisition 
of ideas, is precisely the inverse of that which Locke assigns." — Cousin. 
See his Elements of Psychology, New York edition, 1838, p. 176. If Locke 
and some of his disciples have gone to one extreme, have not Cousin 
and his disciples gone to another ? 

7* 



78 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

others would make it go only from particulars to generals. 
Both are wrong ; for the mind goes both ways. 

The apology for dwelling so long on a speculative, and, 
to most, uninteresting question, respecting the origin of our 
knowledge, is in the fact that it has occupied a very large 
space in philosophical disquisitions, and that ultra theorists, 
on each side, have pushed into infidelity. It is of the first 
moment in philosophy to start right ; and, however dry the 
discussion of a fundamental principle, it is of the highest 
importance to the superstructure. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VI. 

What has been the great question of the schools ? Who were the 
special advocates for the theory of innate ideas ? Who for the opinion 
that all our ideas are acquired ? State the theory of innate ideas. The 
comparison here made. Reply to it. The theory of Locke. What was 
supposed by the ancients ? What is said of the image to which they held ? 
What does Locke call it 1 What is said of the views of Aristotle and the 
Peripatetics ? Those of Malebranch ? What is now thought of the 
theory of an intervening image ? How is the mind believed to be consti- 
tuted ? What is said of the credit due to Reid ? How much do we know 
on this subject 1 What is said of the ancient metaphysicians 1 Remark. 
What is said of the extreme doctrine of the sensuous philosophy 1 What 
other writers, besides Locke, have rejected the theory of innate ideas ? 
In conclusion, how is the human mind supposed to be created ? To what 
does it bear no resemblance ? What is said of human ideas ? How soon 
does the mind begin to have ideas % Of what origin are its first ideas 1 
To what does it gradually ascend ? What is said of unembodied minds ? 
Illustration. Are mere ideas tantamount to knowledge ? What may be 
the character of an idea ? In what sense is every idea true ? When 
is an idea properly called false ? When liable to be so, with what is it 
synonymous ? What is an idea called when supposed true ? What may 
idea imply ? What does cognition imply ? Inference. What do simple 
ideas imply ? Examples. Why are these cognitions ? What is a com- 
plex idea ? What are all abstract ideas ? When are concrete ideas com- 
plex ? When simple ? Illustrate. How many ways does the mind take 
with its simple ideas'? Explain each. What apology for dwelling so 
long on this question ? 



CHAPTER VII. 
PEBIARY KNOWLEDGE. 



The distinction frequently made by the terms original 
and acquired knowledge, is here indicated by the terms 
primary and secondary. The reason is, that I consider all 
knowledge acquired. To speak of original knowledge, 
savors of the theory of innate ideas. By primary knowledge, 
I mean that which the mind has first. It is that which we 
obtain without any reasoning process. It is received in the 
form of simple and direct cognitions. 



PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE OF TWO KINDS. 

This knowledge is of two kinds, sensuous and rational. 
Sensuous knowledge, is that which we obtain by the senses; 
our primary rational knowledge, is that which we obtain by 
direct intuition and consciousness. 

Sensuous knowledge precedes rational. Constituted as 
we are, but for the agency of the senses we have no evi- 
dence that intuition and consciousness would ever teach us 
any thing. Hence all our knowledge may be said to origi- 
nate in sensation. 

The distinction between mere ideas and knowledge, has 
been previously made. This must be kept in mind. We 
are now treating of the origin of knowledge, not mere ideas. 
It is only ideas of & particular class, that imply knowledge : 
— These are the ideas which relate to entities, — that is, to 
things known actually to exist. In other words, they are 
cognitions. When I feel a pain, or smell a rose, or see an 



80 . INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

animal ; or when I am conscious of loving, or perceive the 
truth of an axiom, I not only have ideas respecting these 
things, but I know them. The pain, the odor, the animal, 
the mental affection, the axiom, become to me subjects of 
actual knowledge. An opinion, a conjecture, a suggestion, 
is a mere idea ; it does not amount to knowledge : — but all 
ideas obtained by sensation, and by direct intuition and con- 
sciousness, are actual cognitions, and constitute our prima- 
ry KNOWLEDGE. 



THE SENSES. 

The senses are mental, the organs of the senses are cor- 
poreal. The senses are no less truly mental powers* than 
perception, abstraction, &c, although they operate more di- 
rectly through the physical organs. They are usually classed 
as follows : — 

I. The Sense of Smell. 

II. The Sense of Taste. 

III. The Sense of Hearing. 

IV. The Sense of Touch. 

Y. The Sense of Sight. 

But there are senses which cannot be consistently classed 
with either of these. And for reasons which will hereafter 
appear, the following list is added : — 

I. The Sense of Temperament. 

II. The Sense of Weariness and Fatigue. 

III. The Sense of Pleasure and Pain. 

IV. The Sense of Appetite. 

Some objects make themselves known to us only by one 
of the senses ; hence, if the organ of that sense is wanting, 
the mind remains in ignorance of those objects. Other ob- 
jects address us by two, three, or even four senses, at once. 
Generally, those things most important to be known, ad- 

* Most writers use the terms power and susceptibility as nearly synony- 
mous : — but the former has more particular reference to its consequent, or, 
effect ; the latter, to its antecedent, or, cause. 



PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 81 

dress us by the greatest number of senses ; so that, in the 
event of the failure of some of them, others may serve. 



I. THE SENSE OF SMELL. 

The organ of this sense is what physiologists call the ol- 
factory nerve. It is situated in the nostrils and surrounding 
cells. It is in the place most favorable for the discharge of 
its office. Lying in cells at the bottom of cavities opening 
just above the mouth, it not only enables us to enjoy the 
odor along with the flavor of objects entering the mouth, but 
acts as a sentinel, to warn off or invite objects suitable or 
unsuitable to enter. It is an organ spread over considerable 
surface, and acting with every variety of acuteness and 
energy in different persons. 



THIS SENSE OFTEN DEFECTIVE. 

This is on the whole the least important of the senses, and 
perhaps more persons are destitute of it, or have it in an 
imperfect degree, than any of the others. The reasons why 
we are not better informed of the numerous instances in 
which this sense is wanting or defective, are to be found in 
the reluctance of most persons to expose a defect which it 
only requires silence to conceal, and in the fact that many, 
in whom this sense is defective, are not themselves aware of 
it. The action of this sense is suspended by slighter causes 
than that of any of the other senses. Even a common cold 
will often so derange it, that it cannot discriminate between 
the most opposite odors. 

KNOWLEDGE OF ODORS ONLY BY THE SENSE OF SMELL. 

It is only by this sense, that we obtain a knowledge of 
odors. From the surface of all bodies, there is perpetually 
emanating minute odoriferous particles. When we inhale 
through the nose, these are drawn into the nostrils, and deposit- 



82 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ed on the surface of the olfactory nerve. Instantly there- 
upon arises the sensation of smell. Odors are of endless va- 
rieties, yet both science and common parlance have been 
very parsimonious in the gift of names to designate them. 
We only apply to them a few general terms, such as spicy, 
sweet, agreeable, delicious, sour, offensive, &c. To a man 
whose olfactory nerve is paralyzed, all objects smell alike ; 
— or rather, they have no smell at all. 



THE VARIETIES OF ODOR VERY GREAT. 

Although the sense of smell is the least important, yet, 
in common with the other senses, it has a wide field, and is 
competent to explore it with a wonderful discrimination. A 
dealer in wines said he had handled more than ten thousand 
different qualities, each of which had an odor peculiar to 
itself. A person of very discriminating smell, said, that he 
had never found two roses, even on the same bush, that had 
precisely the same odor. It is often remarked, with some 
truth, that no two things look precisely alike ; — it is equally 
true, that no two things smell precisely alike. There is 
more reason for the differences in the latter than in the 
former case ; since the invisible effluvia emanating from bodies 
may assume greater varieties of combination, than the more 
gross substances, which are obvious to the eye. The truth 
is, the sense of smell is perpetually treating us with an in- 
finitude of odors, which we scarcely pause to notice. Let 
any person who has always enjoyed this sense, be suddenly de- 
prived of it, and he will be convinced, that although it yields 
the palm to the other senses, in parting with it, he has lost 
an important measure of life's enjoyment. 



II. THE SENSE OF TASTE. 

The nervous papilla? spread over the surface of the tongue 
and various parts of the mouth, constitute the organ of taste. 
In order that the sense may act, the body presented must be 
moist, so that the papillae may absorb a portion of it. For 



PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 83 

this purpose, the mouth is provided with salivary glands, 
which act, when a body is received into it, to furnish it with 
moisture. The more desirable the object, the more vigorous- 
ly do these glands act. They commence acting as soon as 
the object is anticipated, to prepare the organs to receive it. 
Hence, it is a common saying, that the thought of things 
delicious " makes the mouth water." 

Other purposes are answered by the saliva, of which this 
is not the place to speak. So soon as the particles of the 
sapient body come in contact with the nervous papillse, we 
are conscious of the sensation of taste. Tastes are sweet, 
Utter, sour, pleasant, agreeable, disagreeable, £c. 



KNOWLEDGE OF FLAVORS OBTAINED ONLY BY THE TASTE. 

As the sense of smell is usually considered a modification 
of that of taste, it has been supposed that by the former 
alone one may learn, with considerable accuracy, the flavor 
of objects. This supposition is strengthened by the fact, 
that persons can usually tell, merely by smelling of an object, 
whether it is sweet,- sour, bitter, agreeable, or disagreeable 
to the taste. But a little attention may convince us, that 
this is the effect of association. It is because we have formed 
the habit of associating certain odors with certain flavors, 
that we are often enabled to judge of the one by the other. 
A person deprived of the sense of taste from his birth, could 
never by the smell tell how an object would taste. But hav- 
ing both smelt and tasted the same object, and thus having 
learned to associate the taste with the smell, the one hence- 
forth suggests the other. A person never favored with the 
sense of taste, could not form any idea of the flavor of a 
rose, merely by smelling it. 



OR TASTE. 

A sweet or sour smell is very different from a sweet or 
sour taste. 



84 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

When we speak of a thing as smelling sour, we convey 
the idea of something disagreeable, injured, offensive. But 
many things that taste sour, are in the highest state of per- 
fection and deliciousness. Many things that smell sour, are 
sweet to the taste ; and many things that smell sweet, are sour 
to the taste. The same thing may have a sour flavor, and a 
sweet odor. A lemon has a sour flavor, but its odor is highly 
sweet and delicious. 

Nor is this merely because the nostrils receive a greater 
proportion of the volatile aroma, than the mouth. The 
nervous papilla of the mouth cannot discriminate the aroma, 
as the pituitary membrane of the nose can ; neither can the 
organ of smell appreciate the acid, as the organ of taste can. 
The fact is, there is something peculiar to each sense, by 
which it receives an idea wholly its own. * 



THE TERMS APPLIED FIGURATIVELY. 

On account of the poverty of language, we apply many of 
the same terms to the ideas communicated by these two 
senses. Common observation, however, leads us to discrimi- 
nate in the use of them. The terms siveet, sour, bitter, be- 
long primarily to the taste, and are applied to the smell only 
in a secondary and figurative sense. We seldom speak of a 
bitter smell ; and when we do, we convey the idea of some- 
thing offensive. But things bitter to the taste, are often 
delicious. Not only the drinker, who loves his " bitters," 
but the epicure, would hardly consent to relinquish all bitter 
tastes. It is hence manifest that the sense of smell cannot 
teach us the taste of objects ; — and if this sense cannot, 
certainly neither of the others can. 

* " What is the generical distinction ? Is it only that the nose is the 
organ of the one and the palate of the other % or, abstracting from the 
organ, is there not in the sensations themselves something common to 
smells, and something else common to tastes, whereby the one is distin- 
guished from the other ? It seems most probable that the latter is the 
case." Iteid's Phil., Vol. I., p. 218. 



PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 85 



THE SENSE OF TASTE SELDOM WANTING. 

Next to the sense of feeling, none is so seldom wanting as 
that of taste. Indeed, it is believed that there never was a 
human being entirely destitute, from birth to manhood, of 
this sense. It is possessed in endless degrees and varieties 
by different persons, but all have it to some extent. This is 
a striking instance of the Creator's beneficent care; since, 
without this sense, even the taking of our needful nourish- 
ment would not only be attended with no pleasure, but would 
be through life a most odious and disgusting task. Persons 
are sometimes in a measure deprived of the use of this sense 
for a short season, during a fever, or some affection of the 
gustatory organs, which arrests the healthful action of the 
salivary glands, or spreads a coat over the papillae : — the 
loss of enjoyment, yea, the positive suffering, resulting from 
the short interruption of this sense, reminds us how great 
must be the loss, to be forever deprived of it. 



NUMEROUS VARIETIES OF FLAVORS. 

The amount as well as importance of the service per- 
formed by this sense, is more apparent, if we consider the 
endless varieties of flavors. It is somewhere said of a cele- 
brated cook, who had been in service fifty years, and had 
prepared on an average fifty dishes a clay, that he never 
made two dishes of precisely the same flavor. We have no 
reason to doubt the remark. Here are two thousand 
five hundred different flavors, furnished by only one person. 
What then must be the number of flavors furnished by all the 
cooks that ever lived ! — and what the number furnished from 
the great kingdom of nature, in all the endless departments 
of the animal and vegetable creations ! If the term infinite 
may ever be applied to what is finite, it surely may be here. 

8 



86 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



THE TASTE COMPETENT TO ALL THESE VARIETIES. 

But it may be said, that although the varieties of flavor 
are endless, our sense of taste is adequate only to a few of 
them. How then did we ascertain their existence ? The 
fact that we know their existence, is proof that our taste has 
detected them ; for we could have become acquainted with 
them in no other way. The Being who made the flavors for 
the taste, has adapted the taste to the flavors. There is no 
mistake, no blunder of calculation, in his work. No person 
has ever fully tested the capacities of the sense of taste. 
" The sensations both of smell and taste do undoubtedly ad- 
mit of an immense variety of modifications, which no lan- 
guage can express. If a man was to examine five hundred 
different wines, he would hardly find two of them that had 
precisely the same taste ; the same thing holds in cheese, 
and in many other things. Yet of five hundred different 
tastes in cheese or wine, we can hardly describe twenty, so 
as to give a distinct notion of them to one who has not tasted 
them." * 

Now if our sense of taste can detect five hundred varieties 
in a single kind, what must we say of it, as employed upon 
all kinds of things, and all their possible combinations ? The 
truth is, our sense of taste is constantly employed upon myr- 
iads of flavors, and yielding us their enjoyment, for which 
we have no names, and of which we do not pause to think. 



HI. THE SENSE OF HEARING. 

The organ of this sense is the ear. There are two appa- 
ratuses for the service of this sense, as there are also for the 
sight and smell ; that in case the one fails, the other may 
serve. The ear, like the other organs of sense, is situated 
in the place most favorable for discharging its office. 
Standing, as a watch at his post, on either side of the 

*Reid's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 219. 



PKIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 87 

head, it receives the vibrations of the air from all directions 
and conveys them to the auditory nerves. The external ear 
presents a large hollow surface, leading through gentle wind- 
ings, carefully adapted to transmit the atmospheric undula- 
tions. These at last beat upon the drum or tympanum, at 
the bottom of the ear. The tympanum is a thin membrane, 
drawn over the orifice leading inward, after the manner of 
the skin or head of a drum. On the inside of this is spread 
out a delicate mesh of nerves, communicating with the sen- 
sorium. So soon as the vibrating atmosphere beats upon 
this drum, there arises in the mind the sensation of hearing. 



THE KNOWLEDGE OF SOUNDS WHOLLY DUE TO THIS SENSE. 

A person deaf from his birth can have no knowledge of 
sounds. The sense of touch is auxiliary to that of hearing, 
but cannot specifically supply its place. It has been said 
above, that sound is produced by certain vibratory motions 
of the air acting upon the drum of the ear. Musical vibra- 
tions, as of the harp, viol, flute, organ, can be recognised by 
the hand. In the case of heavy tones, as of the organ, they 
can be felt through our feet and our whole frame. A deaf 
person may thus tell when fine and when coarse vibrations 
are produced, and even when chords and discords are 
made. 

But this does not amount to a knowledge of the sounds. 
The vibrations are one thing ; the sounds another. A knowl- 
edge of the former, does not imply a knowledge of the latter. 
Harmonious and discordant vibrations, as well as fine and 
coarse ones, produce their appropriate effects on the general 
sense of feeling. They are felt, not heard ; and there is the 
same difference here, as between feeling the raised alphabet 
and hearing the words spoken. 

OBJECTION TO THIS VIEW. 

It is objected to this view, that " deaf* persons not only 

=* This objection was copied from some author, but the reference waa 
accidentally omitted, and I cannot at this moment identify its paternity. 



88 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tell where sounds are made, and discriminate nicely between 
chords and discords, but they actually receive exquisite 
pleasure and pain therefrom, which could not be, unless they 
have some perception of them." The inference is inevita- 
ble, if the premise be granted. But it is not granted. The 
deaf persons in question do not discriminate between those 
sounds, which we denominate chords and discords. It is 
only between the vibrations, which, to those who have the 
sense of hearing, produce chords and discords, that they 
discriminate, and from these that " they actually receive ex- 
quisite pleasure and pain." 

The sense of feeling is implied in that of hearing, and the 
one has by some been regarded as a modification of the other. 
In this view, hearing is a kind of inward feeling. Hence, 
certain vibratory motions — ■ such as produce chords — felt 
through the frame, may give feelings of pleasure ; and cer- 
tain other vibratory motions — such as produce discords — 
felt through the frame, may give feelings of pain, — such 
feelings as are occasioned by chordant and discordant sounds. 
Hence, deaf persons may have exquisite pleasure from those 
vibrations which produce harmonious sounds, and pain from 
those which produce discords, and yet have no knowledge of 
the sounds themselves. There is no sense but that whose 
organ is located in the drum of the ear, that can convey to 
the mind a specific knowledge of sound. 



THIS VIEW SUSTAINED BY FACTS. 

We have evidence sustaining the view here taken, in the 
case of persons deaf from their birth, to whom hearing 
has been restored. Mention is made in a German Medical 
work, unfortunately not at hand, of the case of a deaf child 
twelve years old, to whom hearing was restored by the 
removal of obstructions in the ear. The lively pleasure and 
pain which she felt at the performance of good and bad 
music, and the nice discriminations she made between chords 
and discords, induced herself and others to suppose, that 
she had the same perception of sounds in common with her 
more favored friends. Being educated, she wrote about 



PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 89 

musical sounds, chords and discords, good and bad musical 
performances, as things of which she knew as much as 
others. But when hearing was restored to her, she asserted 
that she had never before had any thing like a true idea of 
sounds. She had had an idea of them, but not a true idea ; 
not a knowledge of them. Other similar instances are on 
record. 



ONLY KNOWLEDGE OF SOUNDS BY THIS SENSE. 

The only office which the ear can claim, is that of being 
a vehicle of sounds. All other sensuous knowledge comes 
through one or more of the other senses. It would seem, 
from this, that the sense in question is not very important ; 
— and indeed, it may better be dispensed with, than some of 
the others. Still its office will not appear insignificant, if 
we consider the great number and variety of sounds, of 
which the ear is the organ, and their vast importance to the 
improvement and happiness of mankind. 



NUMBER AND VARIETY OF SOUNDS. 

The following remarks are so much to my purpose, that I 
am induced to insert them at length. " The ear is capable 
of perceiving four or five hundred variations of tone in sound, 
and probably as many different degrees of strength ; by com- 
bining these, we have above twenty thousand simple sounds, 
that differ either in tone or strength, supposing every one to 
be perfect. But it is to be observed, that to make a perfect 
tone, a great many undulations of elastic air are required, 
which must all be of equal duration and extent, and follow 
one another with perfect regularity ; and each undulation 
must be made up of the advance and recoil of innumerable 
particles of elastic air, whose motions are all uniform in di- 
rection, force, and time. Hence, we may easily conceive a 
prodigious variety on the same tone, arising from irregulari- 
ties of it, occasioned by the constitution, figure, situation^ or 
manner of striking the sonorous body ; from the constitution 
8* 



90 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of the elastic medium, or its being disturbed by other mo- 
tions ; and from the constitution of the ear itself upon which 
the impression is made." 

" A flute, a violin, a hautboy, and a French horn, may all 
sound the same tone, and be easily distinguishable. Nay, if 
twenty human voices sound the same note and with equal 
strength, there will be some difference. The same voice, 
while it retains its proper distinctions, may yet be varied 
many ways, by sickness or health, youth or age, leanness or 
fatness, good or bad humor. The same words spoken by 
foreigners and natives, nay, by persons of different provinces 
of the same nation, may be distinguished." * 

A certain writer on ornithology, speaks of a single bird, 
that gives utterance to more than two hundred distinct modu- 
lations. Now when we think of the myriad voices filling 
the air around us, each of which has its own peculiarities, 
and its almost endless varieties of tone, all of which become 
such to the mind by the sense of hearing, the office of that 
sense appears no sinecure. 



ENDLESS VARIETY OF HUMAN TONES. 

Every human being has a tone peculiar to himself, as is 
evident by his being known by his voice. Even though he 
speak or sing on the same hey with another, yet his voice is 
different. Now if each individual of the eight hundred mil- 
lions of human beings, could only raise the eight notes, we 
should have sixty-four hundred millions of tones, of all which 
the ear is competent to take cognizance. The varieties of 
sound f in the human language, as read and spoken by man- 
kind, baffle all enumeration. 

In some respects, the sense of hearing seems to bring us 
nearer the spirit-world, than either of the others. So refined 
and elevated are the charms of music, that divine inspira- 
tion has through it largely symbolized the enjoyments of the 
heavenly state. 

* Rcid's Works, Vol. I, p. 220. 
. J. Thc terms sound, tone, modulation, arc of course here used merely to 
indicate those atmospheric vibrations, which, to those who have the sense 
or hearing, occasion or produce sound. 



QUESTIONS. 91 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VII. 

What is the distinction between primary and acquired knowledge 1 ? 
How many kinds of primary knowledge } Define each. What is the 
origin of all our knowledge ? Repeat the distinction between mere ideas 
and knowledge. What are entities ? Illustrations. What are cognitions ? 
To which do the senses pertain, the mind or the body ? Name the senses, 
as usually classed. What senses are here added % What is said of objects 
being recognized by one or more senses 1 What is the first sense noticed ? 
Its organ 1 Describe it. What is said of the frequent defectiveness and 
relative importance of this sense ? What knowledge is obtained only by 
this sense ? What is said of odors ? Their varieties % Illustrations ? 
Define the organ of Taste. What is necessary in order that the organ may 
act 1 What provision for this purpose ? What are the qualities of taste 1 
What knowledge is obtained only by taste 1 What is said on this point ? 
What illustrations of terms having different meanings, as applied to smell 
or taste ? Is the sense of smell often wanting ? What is mentioned as a 
striking instance of the Creator's care 1 What is said of the varieties of 
flavors'? Of the competency of taste to recognize them ? Illustrations'? 
What is the organ of Hearing ? Describe. What knowledge is wholly 
due to this sense % How is it shown that a knowledge of sounds cannot 
be obtained by the sense of touch 1 ? Objections to this view? How 
answered % What facts sustain it % How many offices does the ear per- 
form ? What is said of the number and variety of sounds % Of human 
tones ? In what respect does the sense of hearing seem to bring us near 
the spirit-world % 



CHAPTER VIII. 

IV. THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 



The organ of this sense is extended over the entire sur- 
face of the nervous system. In this respect it differs from 
the senses hitherto noticed, whose organs are restricted to a 
small compass. It not only spreads over the outer surface 
of the body, but it is, to some extent, diffused over the 
internal cavities, particularly those of the mouth, ears, nos- 
trils. But physiologists assign its most special seat to the 
hand, on account of the peculiar adaptation of its form, 
joints, flexibility, and delicate nerves, to the purpose of 
touching. The fingers are by far the most discriminating 
and important organs of touch. 



THIS SENSE NOT IDENTICAL WITH THAT OF TEMPERATURE. 

It seems to me that the philosophy of Reid and Brown, 
on this point, is incorrect.* They identify the sense of 
touch with that of temperature. Now, is there not as much 
difference between the touch and the temperature of an 
apple, as between the taste and the temperature of it ? We 
do not touch heat and cold. We touch bodies which have 
heat and cold ; it is only the bodies that we touch; — the 
heat and cold we feel. True, we feel when we touch ; and 
so we feel when we taste. But yet, feeling and tasting are 
not the same. The way in which Reid came to make the 
mistake was probably this : When we touch a body, we not 
only have the sensation of touch, but also that of heat or 

* Reid's Works, Vol. I., p. 226. Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 212. 
Prof. Upham copies from Reid, and adopts his error. 



THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 93 

cold, if the body is in a state to produce it. This led him 
to refer the latter sensation to touch ; especially as in his 
analysis he had no other sense to which to refer it. Brown 
seems to have adopted Reid's analysis, without stopping to 
inquire whether it was correct. 

We may with as much propriety speak of tasting heat, 
as of touching it : — our sense of temperature is as specific 
and marked as our sense of taste, and both equally distinct 
from that of touch. The sensation of feeling is generic ; — 
it does not pertain exclusively to any one sense.* We feel, 
when we taste, when we touch, when we smell, when we 
see. The sensation of feeling, like life itself, is all pervad- 
ing. It of course relates to touch, as well as to the other 
senses. But we may have the sensation of touch without 
that of temperature ; so also we may have the sensation of 
temperature, without that of touch. These may be entirely 
distinct. I hence infer distinct senses. 



RESISTANCE LEARNED BY TOUCH. 

The first idea obtained by touch is that of resistance. 
We thus learn that there is really something ivithout us. 
The eye could not of itself teach us this ; since it is only as 
assured by the touch, we can be certain that what appears 
to the eye is not illusive. One of the first movements of 
the infant in pursuit of knowledge, is to thrust out his hand 
to what he sees, to ascertain whether or not it is a material 

* Eeid endeavors to clear his way, by reference to primary and second- 
ary qualities of matter. This distinction was first held by Democritus, Epi- 
curus, and their followers. Aristotle, and all the pupils of the Peripatetic 
school, discarded it. It was again revived by Des Cartes, Malebranch, 
and Locke. The Bishop of Cloyne again abolished it; — Keid called it 
again from its ashes, declaring that it had a foundation in the principles of 
our nature. 

The primary qualities of matter are such as are essential to its exist- 
ence, such as extension, gravity, &c. The secondary qualities are acci- 
dental, such as temperature, taste, &c. It is merely the distinction be- 
tween the essential and the accidental. But we have specific senses to teach 
us the accidental, as well as the essential, properties of matter: — for in- 
stance, those of taste and smell. Hence, to dispense with the sense of 
temperament, because we feel when we touch, and because heat and cold 
are subjects of feeling, is unphilosophical. 



94 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

object. The touch satisfies him ; — he is then no longer in 
doubt. 

Something more than mere contact is necessary, to pro- 
duce the sensation of touch. Sensations of temperature, of 
taste, of smell, &c, maybe produced by mere contact ; but 
sensations of touch imply resistance. Moderate pressure, 
united with gentle motion, affords the most accurate sensa- 
tion of touch. 



Not only does the touch teach us that there is an external 
world,* but also the exact size, form, and distance, of its 
various objects. The eye is pupil to the hand, until the 
hand has taught it to measure ; — it then learns with vastly 
more rapidity, but never with so much accuracy, as its 
teacher. The sense of touch enables us to correct any mis- 
conceptions by that of sight. After the eye has been 
taught, it measures the height, length, breadth, of an object, 
at a glance ; — but it is not until the slower process of meas- 
urement by the touch, has been made, that we are sure of 
its precise accuracy. An object seems to the eye near or 
distant ; but we must ultimately depend on the touch, to 
tell exactly how near or distant it is. A blind person can 
perform all measurements of accessible objects, with perfect 
accuracy, by the sense of touch ; but without this sense, a 
man with the best of eyes could not do it.f 

The same is true of forms. The eye guesses ; the touch 
knows, whether an object is square, angular, round, rough, 
or smooth. 

* It is not meant here, that infant children have to experiment with 
the hand, before they know there is an external world. They have proof 
enough of this, by other modes of touch, to which they are subject, before 
they are able to perform such experiments. "What is meant, is simply 
this : — it is only as objects without us are actually touched by us, in some 
manner and at some period, that we come to the knowledge of an external 
world. Yet Reid doubts whether we come by this knowledge thus, because 
we have it at so early a period! We should like to ask him, how old the 
infant is, before it touches any thing. See Rcid's Works, Vol. I., p. 243-5. 

t Reid, [Vol. I., p. 241,] supposes the case of a blind man, with all his 
limbs tied, experimented upon by the prick of a pin, then by a blunter 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 95 



HARDNESS AND SOFTNESS LEARNED BY TOUCH. 

Hardness and softness are relative terms, about which 
philosophers speculate ; — we are only concerned with their 
obvious import. Taught by the hand to regard certain objects 
as soft, the eye may ordinarily decide upon them, but it is 
sometimes deceived. Induced by the eye to suppose the 
golden orange mellow, the eager man puts forth his hand 
to grasp it, when it is proved to be made of rock. As he 
is walking in the silvery light of the moon, his eye tells him 
that the smooth surface before him is rock ; — he plants his 
foot boldly down, and is up to his knees in mud. So much 
for trusting his eye. Had he first touched, he would have 
prevented the disaster. 

The pressure and motion being given, the hardness of a 
body is in proportion to its resistance. The greater the 
resistance, the greater the hardness. We thus learn the 
precise hardness or softness of all bodies subjected to this 
sense. 



Y THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 

The organ of this sense is the eye. This is an instrument 
carefully constructed on the scientific principles of the tele- 
scope. Rays of light, coming from a luminous object, enter 
the eye through a small opening called the pupil. They 
thence proceed through the crystalline and aqueous humors 
of the ball, which serve as a lens to gather them to a focal 

instrument, then by the pressure of a larger body, and, finally, by having 
the edge of something drawn over him, to teach him the extension of 
bodies, but all in vain. He concludes, therefore, that extension and other 
primary qualities of bodies are not first learned by the touch. 

This is ridiculous; — utterly unlike the strong good sense usually 
exhibited by this writer. Let the blind man have his tools. If we tell him 
to meas urethe length of a board, or the distance to the market, by the 
touch, let us not tie up his hands and feet. Assuming the breadth of his 
hand, or an artificial rule, he by it measures off the length of the board. 
Here is the touch mechanically applied. It would be quite another affair 
to have the board drawn over him. Having determined the length of his 
board, he can by it measure the distance to market. 



96 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

point, whence they diverge and present an inverted image 
of the object upon the retina. The retina is a delicate ex- 
pansion of the optic nerve, covering the entire posterior part 
of the internal globe of the eye, in the right place to receive 
the image. The instant the image of the object falls upon 
the retina, there arises in the mind the sensation of sight. 
Here is the extent of human knowledge on this subject. 
We can trace the rays of light to the optic nerve. If that 
nerve is perfect, and the image of the object is perfectly 
formed upon it, the mind can see ; — if either the nerve 
or the image is wanting, the mind does not see. Here 
is certainly the relation of antecedent and consequent ; but 
whether the one is really the cause of the other, or what 
the nature of the connection is, man has never known. 

Around the pupil is a circular colored portion of the eye, 
called the iris, because it resembles the rainbow. The color 
seems especially designed to minister to beauty and expres- 
siveness, but other important purposes are served. The iris 
is made capable of contracting and enlarging on its interior 
boundary, so as to diminish or expand the opening it sur- 
rounds, according to the intensity of light. When the 
light is feeble, the iris and pupil expand ; as the light be- 
comes intense, they contract ; — an interesting illustration 
of Divine wisdom and goodness ; since without this ar- 
rangement, the transition from feeble to intense light, 
would destroy the delicate organ. For further protection, 
the pupil and iris are overspread with a firm transparent 
covering, called the cornea. 

KNOWLEDGE OE COLORS ONLY BY THE EYE. 

A person blind from his birth has no true idea of colors. 
An amusing proof of this is given by Locke . A blind 
man flattered himself that he had at last arrived at a knowl- 
edge of colors ; — on being asked to define red, he said it 
was like the sound of a trumpet. 

It is evident, that a person with only four external senses, 
must liken an object, which can be perceived only through the 
wanting sense, to something perceptible through one of 
these four. Hence, a man without eyes must liken colors 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 97 

to something touched, heard, tasted, or smelt. Now red is a 
sharp color. It is not only so to the eye, but to the touch ; 
so that blind persons have sometimes distinguished it, by 
this sense alone. The delicate touch of the hand, as well 
as the eye, discriminates between the harshness of red and 
the softness of blue. So that, in one respect, scarlet is like 
the sound of a trumpet. The blind man was right ; still he 
had no just idea of colors. 



KNOWLEDGE OF COLORS ALL THAT THE EYE ORIGINALLY 
GIVES US. 

The sight receives credit, with most people, for giving us 
knowledge due to the touch and other senses. In strict 
accuracy, the knowledge of colors is all that the eye origi- 
nally gives us. These colors pertain to light. The eye is 
an instrument adapted to analyze and separate these colors, 
and exhibits them on the retina for the mind's perception. 
A red body, is a body suited to reflect those rays upon the 
retina, which give the peculiar perception of red. The 
same is true of bodies of every elementary color, and of all 
possible combinations of colors. Although the colors are 
not in the bodies, but in the light — the medium through 
which they are seen — yet, as they appear to be in the 
bodies, popular usage places them there. As to the specu- 
lation whether they are really in the light, or whether cer- 
tain rays have only the power to produce certain perceptions 
of color, — in other words, whether there is really any such 
thing as colors, except as they exist in our own minds, — it 
is left for the idealist and the realist to settle as they please. 
That something, which we call color, whatever it be, it is 
the prerogative of the eyes alone to make known to us. 



FIGURE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 

All that the eye gives us, is a variety of light and shade, 
as presented in the different colors. Of this every person 
has proof, in the numerous deceptions practised upon him. 



98 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Who that has seen the human form rise under the hand of 
the painter, that has seen large cities and magnificent land- 
scapes stand in bold relief, in all their endless forms, upon 
the plain surface of the canvass, can doubt this ? By the 
various combinations of light and shade, a plain surface may 
be made to exhibit to the eye every possible form of eleva- 
tions and depressions ; of squares, spheres, pyramids, and 
figures of all descriptions. Hence, we cannot obtain our 
original knowledge of figures by the mere sight. 



DISTANCE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 

Every man has proof of this, in the mistakes he makes 
when he trusts his sight alone to teach him distances. It is 
not until the eye has been educated, under the admonition 
of other senses, that it can convey to the mind any idea 
whatever of the distance of a perceived object. Every 
object seems equally near to it, and indeed actually present, 
until the infant puts forth his hand to correct the mistake. 
Blind persons, when first restored to sight, have no idea of 
distance, but regard all objects viewed as in contact with 
their eyes. 

MAGNITUDE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 

This follows from what has been said. The apparent 
magnitude of an object depends upon its distance ; if, then, 
the eye cannot tell its distance, it cannot tell its magnitude. 
A ball six feet in diameter, upon the spire of a lofty steeple, 
may seem to the eye only six inches in diameter ; nor is it 
until the distance of the object is known, and a calculation 
made, that a correct judgment of its real size can be formed. 

The apparent magnitude of an object depends also upon 
the relative size of things around it. Dr. Abercrombie 
remarks, that as he was once passing the door of St. Paul's 
cathedral, several persons were standing in it, who " ap- 
peared to be very little children ; but on approaching them, 
they were found to be full grown persons. In the mental 
process which had taken place, the door had been assumed 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 99 

as the known magnitude, and the other objects judged of by 
it. Had he attended to the door's being much larger than 
any door that one is in the habit of seeing, the mind would 
have made allowance for the apparent size of the persons ; 
and, on the other hand, had these been known to be full 
grown persons, a judgment would have been formed of the size 
of the door." * A man a little below the ordinary stature, 
seems a pigmy, when standing by the side of a very large 
man ; under other circumstances, there is nothing in his 
stature to attract attention. 

All men have noticed, that the apparent size of objects is 
varied, also, by their being near the horizon, or high in the 
heavens (instance the sun and moon) ; by their being on 
land or on water ; by the state of the atmosphere ; and by 
other accidental causes, sufficiently obvious. It is hence 
manifest that the size of objects is not originally determined 
by the eye, 

EDUCATION OF THIS SENSE. 

No one sense is so dependent on the others as that of 
sight ; no other sense requires so much discipline, before it 
learns to tell the truth. And we may add, after it has been 
well educated, it immeasuredly transcends all the others, in 
the rapidity, magnificence, and glory of its revelations. It 
is for the eye to take up and rapidly carry out, on a large 
scale, ideas introduced to the mind by a slower process. A 
person blind from his birth, could have nothing like an ade- 
quate conception of the vast heights, distances, and end- 
lessly variegated forms, presented to the eye of man by an 
extended landscape. The gigantic hills and snow-clad 
mountains, the great rivers and rolling seas, the glorious 
arch of heaven, the great world of wonders, bursting on the 
vision at a glance, can never fully enter the mind, through 
the slow and limited sense of touch. 



* Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 45. Boston edition. 



100 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



MOST OBJECTS ADDRESS THE MIND THROUGH SEVERAL 

SENSES. 

A benevolent Providence has made the objects most 
essential to our being and happiness, address us by most of 
the senses. Food, drink, &c, are of this description. Take a 
peach. It first addresses us through the eye. Having 
admired the beauty of its form and colors, we apply the 
touch, and are pleased with its mellowness. We are next 
delighted with its agreeable fragrance ; and sometimes lin- 
ger long in these preliminary enjoyments, before proceeding 
to the consummation. We at last apply the taste, and thus 
put in requisition /owr of the external senses, to extract from 
the little peach the full amount of pleasure which it proffers. 



COMPENSATION. 

There is a kindly compensatory office performed by the 
senses for each other, which greatly alleviates the affliction 
resulting from the loss of any one or more of them. The 
blind man converts into eyes the ends of his fingers. As 
he cannot see the forms of letters, he is enabled to feel them. 
Guided by the touch, he is able to perfect himself in many 
of the useful and elegant arts, where others depend mostly 
upon the sight. The ear, too, becomes a substitute for the 
eye. A blind man will often tell, by the tread, who enters 
the room, as accurately as the man who sees. If he passes 
a post, a house, a fence, the change of atmospheric vibrations 
admonishes him of the object he is passing. It is generally 
remarked, that when one of the senses is wanting, the others 
become more acute. The senses of touch and hearing, in 
blind persons, are usually very keen. The sight, in deaf 
mutes, is wont to be remarkably quick and discriminating. 
They will read a man's language on his lips. The explana- 
tion is, that the mind concentrates its energies on its remain- 
ing instruments, when some of them are removed, and that 
more care is bestowed upon their education. 



QUESTIONS. 101 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VIII. 

Where is the organ of the sense of Touch situated'? With what do 
Reid and Brown identify this sense ? How does it appear that they are 
incorrect ? What is said in the note of Reid's views ? What is the first 
idea obtained by touch ? What do we thus learn ? How illustrated % 
What other particulars are learned by touch ? To what is the eye pupil 1 
What is said of the eye after being taught by the hand 1 Of a blind per- 
son ? Give Reid's supposition in the note and the reply. How do we 
learn the qualities of hardness and softness ? What is said on this point ? 

What is the organ of Sight ? Define its nature and operation. The 
retina ? How far does our knowledge on this point extend ? What rela- 
tion is here clearly traced ? Describe the nature and uses of the iris. 
With what are the pupil and iris covered ? What knowledge do we obtain 
only by the eye ? Give the anecdote from Locke^ and remarks upon it. 
In strict accuracy, what is the only knowledge that the eye gives us 1 To 
what do colors pertain ? To what, as an instrument, is the eye adapted ? 
How does it appear that figure is not learned by sight ? How that dis- 
tance is not ? Magnitude 1 What is said of the education of this sense % 
After it has been educated 1 What arrangement of Providence respect- 
ing objects addressing the mind through several senses ? Give the exam- 
ple. What is said of compensation ? Give the illustrations. 



CHAPTER IX. 

ADDITIONAL SENSES. 

I. THE SENSE OF TEMPERATURE. 

That we have a sense of temperature, or, in other words, 
that there is a specific provision in our mental constitution 
for the affections ivhich we denominate sensations of heat 
and cold, seems as certain as that we have a sense of smell. 
It is equally as specific and determinate, and the sensations 
to which it gives rise are subjects of as distinct consciousness. 
The organ of this sense seems to pervade the entire mem- 
branous and nervous system. Without it, the coldest blasts 
of February and the hottest breath of August, would be to 
us the same. We should experience no other sensations 
from drinking hot water than from drinking cold, excepting 
what might result from injuries done to our organs. The 
burning of a fever and the chill of death, considered as phys- 
ical phenomena, would be by the mind alike unnoticed. 

H. THE SENSE OF WEARINESS AND FATIGUE. 

Weariness and fatigue, being counterparts to each other, 
may be considered, like the sensations of heat and cold, as 
referable to one and the same sense. Weariness arises from 
inaction ; fatigue, from labor. Hence, weariness is attended 
with desire of action; fatigue, with desire of rest. The 
organ of this sense, like that of temperament, seems to per- 
vade the entire muscular and nervous system. A sensa- 
tion of weariness may be realized through the whole body, 



ADDITIONAL SENSES. 103 

when the whole body has been in a state of inaction ; — a 
sensation of fatigue may be more particularly realized in par- 
ticular members, as the arms, feet, legs, eyes, when these 
members have been particularly overworked. 

Men accustomed to labor, are most liable to weariness 
from inaction ; men accustomed to inaction, are most liable 
to fatigue from labor. Were it not for this sense, we should 
be both without the means of judging whether we have 
reached or passed the due measure of bodily exertion, and 
without any admonition to prompt us to that measure of ex- 
ercise and of rest, which our well-being demands. 

If any object to assigning to this sense a specific existence 
in the mental constitution, I would ask, what shall we do 
with it ? Are we conscious of this class of sensations ? Yes. 
Are they of sufficient importance to deserve notice ? Cer- 
tainly. Do all sensations imply a sense ? — As truly as any 
mental act implies a power to that act. To what then shall 
we refer the sensations in question ? To the sense of smell f 
We do not smell weariness and fatigue. Taste? — We 
do not taste them. Touch ? — We do not touch them. 
Sight? — We do not see them. Hearing? — We do not 
hear them. Temperature ? — They are neither hot, cold, 
nor luke-warm. We must then refer them to a specific sense. 
The mind is so constituted, that, in certain states of the body, 
sensations of this class are realized, as truly and determi- 
nately as, in other states of it, are those of smell or of 
hearing. 



in. THE SENSE OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 

These, also, being counterparts, may be referred to the 
same sense. It may be questioned, whether we have any 
distinct sense of pleasure and pain, or whether these sensa- 
tions are not referable to the individual or combined action 
of the other senses. The former seems the more philosophi- 
cal supposition. All will admit that the pleasure we realize 
in smelling a rose, is a different thing from the sensation of 
smell. The smell is one thing; the pleasure is another. 
Yet both are sensations. The term sensual pleasure, as dis- 



104 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tinguished from purely mental pleasure, conveys a distinct 
idea to all minds. 

The calm and continued pleasure — so constant that we 
scarcely notice it, except when interrupted — arising from a 
state of health and the free and full play of all the bodily 
functions, and the painful uneasiness resulting from a state 
of debility or disease, are sensations too marked not to be 
referred to a specific source. Who can reasonably doubt, 
that there is a specific provision in the mental constitution for 
these sensations ? 

What has been said of pleasure, is equally true of pain. 
The smell of a disagreeable odor, is one thing ; the pain at- 
tending that smell, another. Yet both are real sensations. 
Both afford us distinct cognitions. " To experience those 
states of the bodily organs which are adapted to produce 
pain, is one thing, and to experience pain, another. The 
former is continued during certain periods, the latter occa- 
sional or remitted. What is generally considered continual 
pain, consists usually of a series of painful sensations, more 
or less protracted, and separated from each other by longer 
or shorter intervals of repose or relief from the occurrence of 
other mental exercises." * 

It is the obvious design of pain to admonish us of some- 
thing wrong in our system, and incite us to correct it, and to 
avoid its recurrence. In this view, the sense of pain, as well 
as of pleasure, is a great blessing. 

It is perhaps unnecessary to add, that all hinds and de- 
grees of the sensations of pleasure and of pain, which we 
receive through the body, are referable to this sense. 
Whether, then, it is of sufficient importance to deserve a 
name and a place, let humanity, in the multitude of her 
pleasures and pains, judge. 



* Critical Exposition of Mental Philosophy, by Leicester A. Sawyer 
New Haven edition, 1839. 



ADDITIONAL SENSES. 105 



IV. THE SENSE OF APPETITE, 

By the sense of appetite, I designate that in our constitu- 
tion, which gives rise to hunger, thirst, desire for the other 
ac*, fcc. For popular convenience, we speak of thirsting for 
water, and of hungering for food ; but both hunger and thirst, 
; 3 the other instinctive desires or cravings of nature, 
now c : . "i . are referable to the same generic sense of 

appetite. This sense is variously developed, at different 
periods of growth, according to the demand for it. 

To those who may object to there being a particular sense 
of appetite, and who would refer all appetite to ordinary sen- 
sations of pain seeking relief, I would say, — Is not that un- 
easiness which occasions desire for food, drink, &c, unlike 
■ Do not all other uneasy or painful sensations 
tend : this desire ? The pain (if so they choose to 

call that which I call appetite*) which gives rise to this de- 
sire, implies a natural and healthy state; — all other pain 
implies an unnatural and diseased state. The latter directly 
vkst vySj the former directly produces, the desire in question. 
The one belongs to man in innocence and soundness ; the 
other pertains to him in sinfulness and disease. I infer, 
therefore, a specific provision in our constitution for the sen- 
sations in question : — in other words, that we have a sense 
:-.- :':-:. which is as truly a part of our original constitu- 
tion, as the sense of smell or of taste. The importance of 
this sense is certainly not inferior to that of any pertaining 
to our system. 

i; The ultimate purpose of the sensations connected with 
oetites, is evidently the voluntary preservation of life, 
and the continuance and multiplication of the different orders 
of voluntary beings. They serve as the exciting causes of 
desires and actions, which are necessary to the attainment 
:: these en Is, and are an essential part of the nature of all 
voluntary beings. Man is not alone in the exercise of them. 
All the other tribes of voluntary beings, which are subject to 
his dominion, or divide with him the empire of the world, are 

ible of similar exercises." * 

* Sawyer's Mental Philosophy, p. 30. 



106 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Before leaving the consideration of the additional senses 
noticed in this chapter, I would remark, that the various 
sensations, to which they give rise, furnish us with a vast 
fund of primary knowledge ; — that they minister largely to 
our enjoyment, or our suffering, according as they are right- 
ly used or abused ; and that they are the occasions of nu- 
merous desires and aversions, from which spring those affec- 
tions and volitions which are the subject matter of Moral and 
Spiritual Philosophy. It would seem that sensations of this 
class have not hitherto received sufficient notice ; owing, 
probably, to the difficulty of defining and classing them. 
That the above classification will prove satisfactory, is per- 
haps too much to presume ; — but it is the best which I 
have been able to furnish. Some good suggestions on 
this subject will be found in Sawyer's Critical Analysis, to 
which reference has been already had. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER IX. 

What is meant by a sense of Temperature ? What comparison is made 
between this and the sense of smell ? Where is the organ of this sense 
located ? What would be our experience without it ? Why may weariness 
and fatigue be referred to the same sense ? From what does weariness 
arise ? From what fatigue ? With what is weariness attended ? With 
what fatigue ? Where is the organ of this sense located ? Where and 
when may a sensation of weariness be realized? — A sensation of fatigue ? 
What is said of men accustomed to labor, and the reverse ? What would 
be our condition without this sense ? State the substance of the reply to 
those who object to assigning to it a specific existence in the mental con- 
stitution. Why may pleasure and pain be referred to the same sense ? 
What question may be raised here ? Which of the two suppositions seems 
most philosophical 1 What reasons are given ? What is the obvious 
design of pain ? What is meant by the sense of appetite ? What reasons 
are given in answer to those who deny that we have a specific sense of 
appetite? What importance is assigned to the sensations due to the 
senses here considered ? 



CHAPTER X 
SENSATION. 



Having considered those mental susceptibilities or pow- 
ers, together with their organs, which are the sources of 
sensation, we are prepared to notice the various sensations 
themselves, to which they give rise. 



A SENSATION IS A MENTAL AFFECTION IMMEDIATELY RE- 
SULTING FROM A CHANGE IN AN ORGAN OF SENSE. 

Mental affections, not originating through organs of sense, 
such as love, joy, hatred, are sometimes called sensations, 
but not with philosophical accuracy. They are mental 
feelings, but not sensations. The term sensation is, by the 
best authorities, restricted to those mental affections which 
are directly due to the organs of sense. When something 
is said to have produced a great sensation among a people — 
as the news of a victory or a defeat — the expression is to 
be understood as popular, and not philosophical language. 

Under the head of sensations, I include all the mental 
affections, of which the senses are the direct subjective 
cause. It is as philosophical to speak of sensations of pleas- 
ure and pain, of weariness and fatigue, of heat and cold, 
as of smell, or of touch, or of taste. Those who allow only 
five senses, are puzzled to know where to place the first 
class of the above sensations. 



108 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 



THE MIND THE AGENT IN SENSATION. 

Sensations are effects, in the production of "which are 
causes without, exciting the organ, and the mind, an in- 
telligent agent, acting in connection with the organ, at the 
same time. The united action of both the organ and the 
mind, is essential to sensation. The organ, then, is the 
mutual instrument of mind and matter, — the point at which 
the two worlds meet. Whatever operates upon the organ 
from without, is the occasional cause of sensation ; the organ 
is the instrumental cause ; the mind is both the agent and 
the subjective cause of it. If I smell a rose, the odorous 
effluvia are the occasional cause, the olfactory nerves the 
instrumental, and the mind the agent and subject, of the 
sensation of smell. It is only by this joint action, that birth 
is given to the phenomenon in question. 



HOW SENSATIONS ARE KNOWN. 

Sensations are known only by consciousness. To know 
them, we must experience them. Suppose you undertake 
to explain to one, who never experienced it, the sensation 
produced by the prick of a pin. You may labor with ex- 
planations a month, and he will be no wiser. Put the point 
of a pin into his skin, and he knows in a moment. Before, 
he only conjectured ; now, he knows. What volumes of 
explanation could not explain to him in years, the point of a 
pin can teach him at once. Who ever learned, from scien- 
tific explanations, the precise sensation realized in the ex- 
traction of a tooth ? The dentist's chair can teach what no 
books can. 

Accordingly, we seize on the most common and prominent 
sensations — such as all are presumed to have experienced — 
and compare others with them. When a man would de- 
scribe his sensations in gout, fever, paralysis, or some other 
affection, not common to us, he compares it with the prick 
of a pin, burning, freezing, or any thing similar to it, which 
we have all experienced. This is to us but an approzima- 



SENSATION. 109 

tion to the fact. He alone exactly knows the sensation 
who has experienced it. 

And here we may notice the folly of those who would 
maintain the utter impracticability of a mutual interchange 
of definite and exact thoughts by language. When language 
represents a common experience, its utterances, as received, 
are essentially true to fact; — human experience, in rela- 
tion to most things, is the same. 



ALL IDEAS BY SENSATION ARE COGNITIONS. 

Whatever we directly learn by sensation, is absolute 
knowledge. The idea always exactly corresponds with the 
fact. Our consciousness cannot deceive us. I have an 
idea in regard to the flavor of a peach, by hearing it de- 
scribed ; — my idea may be true or not, — it is a conjecture. 
When I taste, I know. But we must not confound the 
knowledge of the sensation with that of its cause. The 
sensation produced by a pinch of snuff, and the snuff itself y 
are distinct things. It is only the sensation, of which we 
are conscious ; — the cause of the sensation is an object of 
perception. When my hand touches a hot body, a certain 
change takes place in the organ of touch ; whereupon a cor- 
responding change instantly takes effect in my mind, termed 
a sensation of heat. Of this sensation I am conscious. I 
know it. Respecting its cause, I may be in ignorance or 
doubt. 

PHYSIOLOGICAL VIEW OF SENSATION. 

The seat of sensation is usually termed the sensorium* 
It is by some located in the brain — the supposed seat of 
the mind — while the nerves are considered mere messen- 
gers, to bear reports thither from all parts of the body. 
Others regard the nerves as constituting, in connection with 
the brain, the sensorial organ. 

10 



110 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



NERVES AND BRAIN. 



The nerve is a fine, white, fibrous thread, ramifying mi- 
nutely into all parts of the body, and connecting with the 
brain. The brain is an organized mass, or rather a conge- 
ries of organized little masses, of the same substance with 
the nerve. In the substance of the nerve itself, as well as 
in the substance of the brain, there is no sensibility.* The 
sensibility resides in the envelope, called the neuralima. 
Around every nervous thread, however minute, and around 
the great mass and all the little portions of the brain, this 
thin membrane is spread, of extreme delicacy and sensibility. 
It is of the same general nature with the other membranes 
of the body, only more refined and sensible. Indeed, it 
varies its own texture to suit the organ it invests. It is 
more sensible in the special organs of sense — the eye, ear, 
mouth, &c, than in other parts of the body; and more so 
in some of these organs than in others. It is more delicate 
in the ends of the fingers, than in any other parts of the 
hand. Along with the nerves, running in every direction, 
it connects with all the other membranes of the body.t 

All the muscles, every little fleshy fibre, as well as the 
bones, are pervaded with it, and hence instinct with sensi- 
bility. 

THE SEAT OF SENSIBILITY NOT EXCLUSIVELY IN THE HEAD. 

Sensibility, therefore, cannot be regarded as having a seat 
exclusively in the head. Its seat is all over and through 

* See Bichat's Anatomy and Physiology, 

t " Our fundamental idea of a nervous system includes a central organ 
or ganglion, essentially composed of vesicles or cells, with a plexus of capil- 
lary vessels distributed amongst these ; and a set of trunks and ramifying 
branches, composed of tubular fibres, and connecting the ganglion with 
different parts of the fabric. These branches are for the most part dis- 
tributed, on the one hand, to the sensory surfaces and organs ; and, on the 
other, to the muscles or motor organs." — Principles of Human Physiology, 
by William B. Carpenter, M. D., F. E. S., F. G. S., Examiner in Physiology 
in the University of London, p. 230. This work comprises a complete view 
of the most scientific and approved doctrines of physiology, down to the 
present time. 



SENSATION. Ill 

the body, wherever there is membrane and nerve.* Touch 
any part, where these are found, and there we are conscious 
of feeling. Sensibility, like life itself, is all pervading. 

If we must ascribe the seat of sensation to any one part, 
rather than another, both physiology and experience would 
designate the stomach. This is one of the most vascular, 
tissuous, fibrous organs of the human system. It is a thor- 
ough congeries of the very elements which give rise to 
feeling. 

Experience also teaches us, that our mental feelings are 
first realized in the stomach, rather than in the head. Sad- 
ness, depression, the glow of joy, are first felt at the epigas- 
trium. If we hear bad news just as we are about to dine, 
we feel a depression at the stomach ; we cannot eat. Grief 
destroys digestion ; cheerfulness promotes it. f 

It may be said that the good or bad news we hear acts 
on the stomach through the brain, the brain being first 
affected. That is not to the point. I am now speaking 
of sensibility, and of our consciousness. The question is, 
where are we conscious of realizing the feelings in question ? 
While some parts are more sensible than others, sensibility 
is more or less diffused through the entire living body. 



AGENCY OF NERVES AND BRAIN. 

What, then, is the office of the nerves and brain ? I 
have said that, apart from their membranous envelope, 
they are without sensibility. They are not, then, in them- 

* The ganglionic masses at the base of the brain are highly charged with 
the elements of sensibility, and seem to have a special agency in sensation. 
Here the membranous and vascular systems predominate. " At the base 
of the brain in man, concealed by the cerebral hemispheres, but still 
readily distinguishable from them, we find a series of ganglionic masses, 
which are in direct connection with the nerves of sensation ; and which 
appear to have functions quite independent of those of the other compo- 
nents of the encephalon." — Principles of Human Physiology, by William B. 
Carpenter, 8fc, p. 320. 

t " It is stated by Brachet, that, in some of his experiments upon the 
par vagum, some hours after section of the nerve on both sides, the surface 
only of the elementary mass was found to have undergone solution, the 
remainder of the mass remaining in the condition in which it was at first 



112 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

selves, organs of feeling.* If they have any thing to do 
with the mind, they must be organs of intelligence or knowl- 
edge, as distinguished from feeling. Of the latter, the 
membranous system is the organ ; of the former, including 
the brain, the nervous. Both are essential to sensation. 
Neither the nerves and brain alone, nor the membranes 
alone, can produce it. Without the one, there can be no 
sensibility; without the other, the excited sensibility is 
unnoticed. 

SENSATION NOT STRICTLY SIMPLE. 

Sensation has been considered a simple act of mind.f It 
is, however, when fully analyzed, not strictly so. The 
change that takes place in the organs of sense, rouses the 
feelings; the change in the nerves and brain makes the 
mind conscious of this new state. If it be said, that we can 
have no mental feelings, of which we are not conscious ; — 
this has been doubted ; — but grant it. Does it follow that 
a mental emotion and a consciousness of that emotion, are 
strictly the same thing ? Certainly not. And yet both are 
essential to sensation. Not only so, we seem to have two 
distinct sets of organs for this two-fold mental operation. 
This is not given as a fact, but as a theory based on the 

ingested ; and if this statement can be relied upon, it would appear that 
the movements of the stomach, like those of the heart, can be readily affected 
by a strong nervous impression. It may be partly in this manner, therefore, 
aud not by acting upon the secretions alone, that strong emotions influence 
the digestive process, as they are well known to do." — Carpenters Physiology, 
p. 491. 

* The reader will carefully note the distinction between sensibility and 
sensation. Sensation is the more comprehensive. It includes both the ex- 
cited sensibility and the mind's cognizance of it. Perhaps an illustration 
will be better understood. A gentle word may awaken no sensation in 
my friend, because his mind is absorbed in thought. The sharp voice of a 
pistol in his car, would probably awaken sensation. If there were no sen- 
sibility, the report of a pistol would be no more effectual than the feeblest 
whisper. Until the excited sensibility of the organ rises to a point to 
overcome the influence that holds the attention to something else, and call 
it to what is taking place in this particular organ, there can be no sensa- 
tion of sound. 

tSee Upham's Philosophy, p. 24. New York edition, 1847. Also 
Beid's Works, Vol. II., p. 28. 



SENSATION. 113 

best physiological authority. There are other considerations 
tending to confirm this view, which I shall notice. 



HOW OBJECTS ACT ON THE ORGAN OP SENSE. 

It is by all admitted, that objects around us produce in 
us sensations, by causing some change in the organs of 
sense. The precise nature of this change is not always 
evident, and yet we know something about it. Although 
the nerves, apart from their envelope, are insensible, yet, 
as they always have their envelope, we are justified in the 
popular use of the term nervous sensibility. Both common 
people and men of science know what the term means. 
Whether the excitement is in the substance of the nerve 
itself, or in the covering of the nerve, is of no consequence 
in this connection. All I wish to assert here, is, that the 
first effect produced upon us by external objects, is an ex- 
citement of what is usually called the nervous sensibility of 
the organ affected. 

THE ORGANS OF SENSE ARE STIMULATED. 

The most common effect produced on the organs of sense, 
by external causes, is that of a stimulus. Thus light stimu- 
lates the optic nerve. It stimulates all living things. 
Next to caloric, it is the most important of the agents, with 
which the Almighty operates upon the material universe. 
The vegetable, when it feels the presence of light, is roused 
to newness of life. When rays of light, coming to the eye 
from an object, are converged within it to a focal point, and 
thence thrown upon the delicate expansion of optic nerve 
investing the retina, it operates as a powerful stimulus to 
that organ. Its sensibilities are thus roused in reference to 
the object, and sensation immediately follows. Different 
colors have different degrees of sharpness and mellowness ; 
various forms make their various impressions ; the sensibili- 
ties excited, and the sensations produced, vary accordingly. 
This is a simple statement of fact. How the presence of 
light stimulates the optic nerve, and how the excited sensi- 
10* 



114 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

bilities of that organ produce in the mind the sensation of 
sight, are questions beyond human reach. 

In a similar manner, the presence of odors to the olfac- 
tory nerve stimulates that organ. The ordinary pleasures 
resulting from the delicious odors attending our meats and 
drinks, and from the mellow fragrance of fruits and flowers, 
not less than the more gross and potent luxury of snuff- 
taking, depend upon the excitement thus produced. Simi- 
lar, also, is the excitement of the sensibilities of the gusta- 
tory organs, by the presence of food ; and of the organs of 
hearing, by the atmospheric vibrations. In all cases, an 
immediate sensation attends this nervous excitement. 

In the case of touch, some other word than stimulus 
would perhaps be more appropriate. And yet it is essen- 
tially the same thing. The part touched is excited, moved, 
stimulated, and thus made sensible of the presence of the 
cause. If the part is hit severely, or wounded, the excite- 
ment becomes violent, and a painful sensation is the result. 

Other sensations result from the want of due stimulus, or 
from the re-action of over excitement. Such are sensations 
of weariness and fatigue. 



SENSATIONS ARE LOCAL. 

It follows, from what has been said, that the popular mind 
is not so much mistaken as has been supposed, in assigning 
localities to sensation. " Sensation is often regarded," says 
Prof. Upham,* " as something having a position, and as taking 
place in the body, and particularly in the organ of sense. 
The sensation of touch, as we seem to imagine, is in the 
hand, whichis the organ of touch, and is not truly internal ; 
the hearing is in the ear, and the vision in the eye, and not 
in the soul. But all we can say with truth and on good 
ground, is, that the organs of sense are accessory to sensa- 
tion and necessary to it ; but the sensation or feeling itself 
is wholly in the mind. How often it is said the eye sees ; 
but the proper language, if we look at the subject philo- 

* Mental Philosophy, p. 25. 



SENSATION. 115 

sophically, is, that the soul sees ; for the eye is only the 
organ, instrument, or minister of the soul in visual percep- 
tions. " " A man," says Reid,* " cannot see the satellites 
of Jupiter but by a telescope. Does he conclude from this, 
that it is the telescope that sees those stars ? By no means ; 
such a conclusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to 
conclude that it is the eye that sees, or the ear that hears. 
The telescope is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. 
The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but 
the natural organ sees as little as the artificial." 

There is a fallacy here. Both the telescope and the eye 
are instruments, but the essential difference between them 
is not that the one is natural and the other artificial : — that 
is a point of no consequence : — It is, that the one is a dead 
instrument, and the other instinct with living mind. But 
what Reid wished to illustrate is true. In strict philosophy, 
it is the mind that sees, not the eye. It is the mind that 
tastes, smells, hears, feels, &c. The mind is the agent ; the 
organ of sense, the instrument. Nobody disputes this. It 
is the inference that I deny. Because it is the mind that 
feels, does it follow that the feeling may not take place in 
certain parts of the body ? — in the hand, head, or foot ? 
If the entire body is instinct with sensibility, may not the 
mind be conscious of feeling in any part of it ? May not 
the feeling be in the mind and in the organ of sensation 
too ? Evidently, if the mind is in the organ of sensation, 
and in that organ it must be, to experience a sensation from 
it ; unless we adopt something like the exploded theory, 
that the mind stays in the brain, and the nerves act as tele- 
graphic wires, to tell it what is going on in the various 
organs ; or the yet more objectional theory, that the mind is 
nowhere. 

The inference to which I object, seems to be founded on 
a false notion respecting the connection of the mind with the 
body. It seems to suppose that the mind is lodged in some 
quarter, whence it looks forth upon the body and operates it, 
by a kind of machinery, as we operate a lifeless engine. As 
it is important that the mind should have a favorable posi- 

* Reid's Works, Vol. IL, p. 50. 



116 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tion, most philosophers have concluded to assign it the head. 
To place it in the toe, would be too great a blunder for any 
philosopher. " Though philosophers have disputed much 
about the place of the mind," says Reid, " yet none of them 
ever placed it in the toe." * 

But if we have taken the right view — and it is the view 
sustained by the most scientific physiology — then the mind 
is confined to no one part. It is all pervading. The whole 
living body is instinct with mind; although the nerves and 
brain are organs of thought, while the membranous systems 
are organs of feeling. This being so, in a being of soul and 
body, sensation must be " regarded as something having a 
position, and as taking place in the body, and particularly 
in the organs of sense." 



OBJECTION TO THIS VIEW. 

It is objected to this view, that if the mind thus pervades 
the entire body, and may be said to be in the hands, feet, 
toes, &c, then we have only to cut off a man's limb, to take 
away a part of his mind. Whereas, he has as much mind 
after the amputation as before. Here, again, there is a 
confounding of mind with matter. Mind is pure spirit ; 
hence, its existence is substantially independent of matter in. 
every form and measure. The mind of God pervades the 
entire universe : — yet the annihilation of a world takes 
away no portion of his mind. So the mind of man pervades 
his entire body ; yet the removal of a limb, removes no part 
of his mind. The mind concentrates its action, so to speak, 
in what remains. Pluck out one eye, and the same entire 
mind concentrates its vision in the remaining eye. Go on 
removing member after member; and so long as life re- 
mains, the mind remains, the same one entire being, doing 
the best it can with its remaining and mutilated instruments, 
until you destroy life. 

* Rcid's Works, Vol. II., p. 269. 



SENSATION. 117 



CASES CITED BY KEID. 

" Cases sometimes happen," says Dr. Reid, " which give 
occasion even to the vulgar to distinguish the painful sensa- 
tion from the disorder which is the cause of it. A man who 
has had his leg cut off, many years after feels pain in a toe 
of that leg. The toe has now no existence ; and he per- 
ceives easily, that the toe can neither be the place, nor the 
subject of the pain which he feels ; yet it is the same feeling 
he used to have from a hurt in the toe ; and if he did not 
know that his leg was cut off, it would give him the same 
immediate conviction of some hurt or disorder in the toe."* 

The distinction between the sensation and the disorder 
which occasions it, is made by the simplest minds. The 
question is, whether the disorder and the sensation are in 
the same place. I maintain that they are. If the head is 
disordered, the pain is in the head; if the foot is disordered, 
the pain is in the foot. Nor are cases of sympathetic pains, 
as they are called, exceptions. A disordered stomach 
occasions pain in the head, because it occasions pressure of 
blood or some other derangement in that part. Such is the 
connection of the various membranes and organs of the 
body, that a disorder in one part creates disturbance in 
another ; and, moreover, the sensation may sometimes be- 
come most intense in the part indirectly disordered, because 
the sensibilities of that part are least blunted. But there 
is real disorder there, and that disorder occasions the sensa- 
tion in question. To put my meaning in plainest English, 
if the irregularity in the stomach occasioned no irregularity 
in the head, there would be no headache. 

As to the supposed pain in the toe, after the limb was 
cut off, it is a strong confirmation of my view. It shows 
that the man's mind had been accustomed to feeling the pain 
in that particular part, until it had become a mental habit. 
If he had not actually- felt it in the toe, while the toe was 
on, would he have imagined it in the toe, after the toe was 
off? We all know how easily the imagination re-creates 
what the mind has previously experienced. 

* Reid's Works, Vol. tt, p. 270. 



118 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



PHILOSOPHY AND EXPERIENCE. 

Other things equal, that is the soundest philosophy which 
tallies with common experience and observation. Now, 
there is no hazard in asserting, that ninety-nine hundredths 
of men without pretensions to science, do really suppose that 
their vision is in their eyes, their taste in their mouths, their 
smell in their noses, their hearing in their ears, and their 
feeling wherever they happen to feel. Why, then, are phi- 
losophers so anxious to resist this universal belief ? Is it 
because they are afraid of materializing the mind ? Or 
because they covet a philosophy too deep for common peo- 
ple ? Is it not rather, because they have assumed a defini- 
tion of sensation which compels them to do it ? — a limited 
definition, which makes no account of any thing actually 
realized by the mind in the organ of sense. The latter is 
the undoubted reason. 

When a simple-minded man burns his finger, he speaks 
of pain in it. " Hold," says the philosopher, " there is no 
pain in your finger ; the pain is in the mind." 

" But I am certainly conscious of pain in my finger. If 
my finger were well, my mind would be well enough." 

" Now I can prove to you, philosophically, that all the 
pain is in the mind, not in the body ; for if we take away 
the mind from the body, you may burn the body to cinders, 
and it will realize no pain." 

"Very well. And so if we take away the body from the 
mind; you may burn the body to cinders, and the mind will 
realize no pain. So I do not see but my simplicity is as 
good as your philosophy." 

At another time, the same untaught man sees a fine look- 
ing apple, but on tasting finds it very bitter. " This fruit," 
he says, " is not so good as it looks ; it is pleasant to the 
eye, but very disagreeable to the mouth." 

" Stop," says the philosopher, " that will not do. There 
is no such thing as pleasant to the eye and disagreeable to 
the mouth. There is no vision in the eye, nor taste in the 
mouth. You ought to say, * the apple is pleasant to the 



QUESTIONS. 119 

mind, when the mind sees it ; but disagreeable to the mind, 
when the mind tastes it.' " 

" But, in my simplicity, I always supposed,'' he replies, 
" that the mind does its seeing in the eye, and its tasting in 
the mouth. At any rate, it will take something more than 
your philosophy to convince me, that it is not in my mouth 
that I realize this bitter taste." 

Now if we but consider that the mind is the I — that 
when I speak of my mind, I speak of myself, we see that 
the simpleton here is wiser than the philosopher. What 
sense in saying, I have a pain in myself f Where else 
could I have it ? But there is some sense in saying, I have 
a pain in my head, for it might be in some other part. We 
all agree that sensations are, and of course must be, in the 
mind ; there can be no question of this ; and for one, I am 
disposed to regard them, also, " as something having a posi- 
tion, and as taking place in the body, and particularly in 
the organ of sense," although so unfortunate as to have 
excellent authorities against me. Asking none to take my 
humble judgment, and quite content to let it pass for what 
it is worth, I am disposed to say with my fellow simpletons, 
that vision is in the eye, that taste is in the mouth, that 
smell is in the nose, that hearing is in the ear, and that 
feeling is just where something is felt. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER X. 

What is sensation ? What is the difference between sensation and other 
mental feelings'? To what is the term sensation restricted'? How much 
is included under the head of sensations % What is said of those who hold 
to only five senses ? What is the agent in sensation % How many causes 
combine to produce sensation'? Illustration. How are sensations 
known 1 Illustrate. What may we here notice 1 What are all our ideas 
obtained by sensation'? What is cognition'? Answer — Knowledge. 
Illustrate. With what must we not confound sensation % What is the 
seat of sensation ? What is the nerve ? The brain ? Where does the sen- 



120 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sibility of nerve reside % What is said of the neuralima ? To what con- 
clusion are we brought respecting the seat of sensibility 1 "What is said 
of seating it in the stomach ? How widely is sensibility diffused 1 What 
is the office of nerves and brain ? And what of membrane ? Is sensation 
strictly simple? Why not 2 How do external objects act on the organs of 
sense ? What is their effect on these organs ? Illustrations — Sight, 
Odors, Food, &c. Are sensations local ? What say Upham and Reid ? 
What is the fallacy here 1 Eemarks. Is the mind confined to any one 
part of the body ? Inference. What objection to this view ? Answer ? 
What case is cited by Reid? Reply to it ? What is said of the supposed 
pain in the toe ? Other things equal, which is the soundest philosophy % 
State the substance of the colloquy between the uneducated man and the 
philosopher. How does it appear that the former is right? Let the 
reader give his own opinion. 



CHAPTER XI. 



IMPROVEMENT OP OUR SENSATIONS. 

As our knowledge originates in sensations, and as they 
contribute so essentially through life to our entire mental 
furniture and to our social and moral character, it becomes 
an interesting inquiry, How they may be improved to best 
advantage ? It has been previously said, that sensation 
always involves an affection of the organ of sense, as well as 
of the mind. As they mutually depend upon each other, 
we must have an eye to both. 



THE ORGANS OF SENSATION SUSCEPTIBLE OF CULTURE. 

There is undoubtedly a great difference between men, in 
the original capacities of their organs of sense, and a great 
difference, in the same person, between the relative capaci- 
ties of his own ; some being often very feeble or entirely- 
wanting, while others are in a high state of perfection. This 
difference seems to be mostly owing to greater or less origi- 
nal delicacy and integrity of the nerves and membranes com- 
posing the organs. But the difference is owing, vastly more, 
to the manner in which we use them. Keenness or obtuse- 
ness of taste and smell, quickness or dulness of hearing, deli- 
cacy or grossness of feeling, dimness or clearness of vision, 
together with the qualities of all our inward sensations, are 
ordinarily more the result of our own doing than of constitu- 
tional endowment. 

11 



122 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



HOW THE ORGANS OF SENSATION MAY BE IMPROVED. 

All the organs of sensation may be improved, by a judi- 
cious use of them, in connection with habits of strict temper- 
ance. They may be enfeebled by neglect ; they may be 
injured by over-working ; they may be prostrated by habits 
of licentiousness, gluttony, drunkenness. Hence, he who 
would rise to the highest intellectual attainments, should be 
thoroughly temperate and virtuous : — The brightest names 
on the roll of intellectual greatness, belong to men of such 
habits. 

The person in question must not only be temperate and 
virtuous, but industrious. All the instruments of sensation 
must be kept bright with use. Industry is as essential to the 
health and efficiency of the organs of sensation, as to the 
acquisition of knowledge by the reasoning powers. By habits 
of indolence and sensual indulgence, the organs of sensation 
relapse into a condition, in which they teach us little more 
than they do the brute : — They then give us only the lowest 
and most animal ideas. 

He who rises late in the morning, lives luxuriously, lounges 
in indolence, or drags his body about only to make it minis- 
ter to his pleasure, in respect to the knowledge he obtains 
by sensation, is more an animal than a man. If we would 
have our sensations entire and true, our perceptions clear, 
our judgments sound, and all our ideas and thoughts expand 
and shoot vigorously upward, we must keep our intellectual 
tools in the best of order. 



HOW OUR SENSATIONS MAY BE IMPROVED. 

The senses pertain to the mind, and are united to 
the body in a special relation to the organs of sensation. 
Hence, while the organ acts as an instrument on the sense, 
the sense re-acts as an agent on the organ. Their influence 
is reciprocal and intimate. I look upon an object, with a 
view to knowing it. That object makes through the eye an 
impression on the sense of sight. The impression tends to 



SENSATION. 123 

fix the eve. The fixedness of the eye tends to make the im- 
pression more clear and exact. By exerting my will to 
direct and continue the process to a suitable degree, the 
physical organ becomes the better adapted, and the sense 
becomes habituated, to such an effort. Thus the sense is 
gradually enabled to operate with more ease and efficiency. 
In this way, all our voluntary sensations have to be educated. 
Our involuntary sensations are more directly concerned with 
admonishing us of our physical wants. They do not so much 
require to be educated, as carefully noticed, in order to fur- 
nish those higher ideas which belong to us as rational and 
moral beings. 

Two advantages are secured to the senses, by their proper 
use, — strength, and habit. All the mental, as well as bodi- 
ly powers, are strengthened by exercise. If I lay my hand 
fixedly upon the table for months, it becomes so feeble that 
I cannot use it. On the contrary, if I vigorously exercise it 
in some gymnastic school, I may increase its natural strength 
four fold. It is precisely so with all the voluntary senses. 
God has placed them in subjection to our will, as talents 
which we are bound to improve. The responsibility is upon 
us, and ours must be the irreparable loss, if we fail to dis- 
charge it. There is doubtless a limit, beyond which the 
vigor of the senses cannot be raised by exercise ; but it is 
doubtful whether even the most industrious have ever fully 
reached it. 

The next advantage secured to the senses, by their appro- 
priate use, is that of habit. Some may suppose this advan- 
tage includes the other. They are intimately related, but 
not the same. Strength may be natural; habit is always ac- 
quired. Acquired strength is the same thing as natural 
strength, differing only in its origin. Hence, the acquired 
strength and the habit of a given sense are two things. Now 
we all know something of the power of habit. It becomes a 
second nature, and sometimes more than a match for nature 
herself. 

He who has from childhood accustomed himself to neglect 
all his sensations, excepting those which minister only to 
animal wants and pleasures, has lost what the gold of Cali- 
fornia cannot redeem. If such has been his course up to 



124 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

manhood, the die is cast ; — he may be much of an animal, 
but he will never be much of a man. On the contrary, he 
who has trained all his senses to be ever on duty, has formed 
a habit by which knowledge from all points is perpetually 
flowing into Ms mind. It becomes natural and easy for him 
to learn from all sources. Young people should consider 
this. They should endeavor to form those habits of careful 
and ever wakeful observation, which are at the foundation of 
all mental greatness. The importance of this subject justi- 
fies the use of a few moments on each of the voluntary sensa- 
tions. 

IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF SMELL. 

This sensation, as a source of intellectual furniture, is or- 
dinarily considered of so little importance, that we might be 
justified in passing it. Excepting the case of persons 
engaged in some business that makes special demand upon 
it, and of those deprived of other sensations, we have no 
means of testing the improvement of which it is susceptible. 

Individuals incapable of exercising any sense but that of 
smell, have brought it to such a state of perfection as to rival 
the sharp-scented spaniel. They have become able, in the 
use of this sense alone, to distinguish their friends from each 
other, their acquaintances from strangers, and sometimes to 
trace the way to the place of their residence ; — they have 
distinguished between colors, and have even found stolen 
articles of dress. We thus see how much valuable knowl- 
edge may be gained, even from this humble source, and 
how great its importance in the absence of others. 

Intemperance of all kinds tends to impair the action of 
this sense. Snuff-taking, and all other unnatural and violent 
stimulants addressed to the olfactory nerves, while they 
create a morbid desire, gradually exhaust the sensibility of 
the organ, and with it the pleasure at first afforded. That 
there is some pleasure in thus unnaturally stimulating the 
nose, and through it the nervous system generally, is not 
denied. But how soon does this pleasure degenerate to a 
slavish necessity. The keen sense of this organ being 
blunted, all the sweet odors of balmy spring, all the rich per- 



SENSATION. 125 

fumes of the summer landscape, all the mellow fragrance of 
autumnal fruits, are lost. On the score of mere pleasure, 
therefore, young people should be admonished to avoid all 
habits deleterious to this sense. But as a source of knowl- 
edge, of pure sentiments, of delicate and refined feelings, 
it is of vastly more importance. Some of the sweetest 
imagery in the whole range of literature is founded on dis- 
criminations of this sense, without which, none can enjoy, or 
even understand it. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF TASTE. 

The discriminating power of the sense of taste, depends 
also on strict temperance and careful attention. When the 
organ is unduly excited, irritated, inflamed, the sense gradu- 
ally loses this power. The most discriminating dealer of 
wines, other things equal, is the most temperate man. In- 
temperate men sometimes discover much accurate judgment 
in the choice of liquors, but this is despite of their intemper- 
ance. The use which led to intemperance, contributed to 
educate their taste, but intemperance itself contributes to in- 
jure it. Besides, the taste, as applied to intoxicating drinks, is 
mostly an acquired taste, not a natural one. It soon degen- 
erates into a morbid hankering, and all pleasure is lost, except 
that of allaying the pain thus produced. It ceases to be the 
positive pleasure afforded by the gratification of taste, and 
becomes only the negative satisfaction of arresting a morbid 
craving. 

On this point, one of our excellent writers * seems to have 
fallen into an error, by not distinguishing between taste, and 
disordered appetite. He says that " the sensation of taste 
acquires an enhanced degree of pleasantness," as the habit 
of drinking advances. On the contrary, we believe that the 
drunkenness, which he says, in just and forcible language, 
" presses him like a coat of iron and galls like fetters of 
steel," so injures his taste, that his enjoyment from it be- 
comes far less vivid than at first ; while, at the same time, 

* Upham's Mental Philosophy, p. 61. 
11* 



126 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the craving of his sinking sensibilities, the feverish appetite, 
is so enhanced, that he is compelled to cry out in agony for 
another dram, even though the dreadful scowl upon his face 
when he drinks it — so unlike the smiling pleasure which 
danced there at first — tells us plainly that it has become to 
him as wormwood and gall. And this is the most terrific 
view of intemperance. Such is the irrepealable law of our 
nature : — Every time we pass over the limits of strict vir- 
tue, we invade the integrity of our taste, and thus diminish 
the pleasure attending the use of heaven's bounties ; while, 
at the same time, we increase the demands of a false ap- 
petite. 

The same is true of all pleasures, in which the mind is 
passive, when not under the law of absolute temperance. 
" Experience diminishes the influence of passive impressions 
on the mind, but strengthens our active principles. A 
course of debauchery deadens the sense of pleasure, but in- 
creases the desire of gratification. An immoderate use of 
strong liquors destroys the sensibility of the palate, but 
strengthens the habit of intemperance." * 

The sensation of taste is impaired by habits of gluttony. 
Experienced cooks have a very discriminating taste in regard 
to dishes ; but although perpetually exercising it on a great 
variety, they are usually quite temperate in the use of them. 
It is said of one of the kings of England, that after he be- 
came a glutton he would not trust his own taste to decide 
upon the qualities of his dishes, but referred the decision to 
his cook. He showed his good sense in this, at least, that he 
would not venture his reputation in attempting to pronounce 
upon a dish, before his assembled court at feast, without 
taking counsel of better authority than his own impaired 
taste. 

The inebriate, too, cannot safely trust his own taste to 
select the wines for his banquet. Even if his discrimination 
was once good, it is so no longer:-— he must have recourse 
to the dealer in wines — a person in whom temperance has 
preserved the naturalness of taste, while careful tasting has 
rendered it discriminating. A pure, delicate, natural taste, 

* Stuart's Philosophy, B. I, p. 289. 



SENSATION. 127 

is a great and constant source of enjoyment. To him who 
has it, appetite is healthy, relish is keen, participation satis- 
fies desire, the cup of sensuous pleasure is full. Every 
morsel of food, however plain, every article of drink — even 
a glass of cold water — is a luxury ; a truer, more enviable 
luxury, than the intemperate ever experience, even at the 
most sumptuous entertainment. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF HEARING. 

The sense of hearing, like all the others, is improved by 
appropriate and diligent use, in connection with temperate 
and virtuous habits. It is indeed astonishing to what a pitch 
of discrimination this sense may be elevated, by a persever- 
ing course of right training. I was acquainted with a blind 
man in Boston, now dead, whose sense of hearing had ac- 
quired such accuracy and quickness, that he seldom failed 
to recognize any person by his voice, with whom he had at 
any former time conversed. His ears did actually more for 
him, in this respect, than the eyes of most persons do for 
them. His business was to tune pianos. As he walked the 
busy streets of the metropolis alone from house to house on 
his business, he knew when he passed a building, a corner, 
or a post, by the change which they occasioned in the vibra- 
tory motions of the air. He could tell by the ear, with as 
much exactness as most can by the eye, the dimensions and 
form of any room which he entered, the height of a person 
with whom he was conversing, and the magnitude and form 
of buildings which he passed. Philosophy teaches us that 
these causes must produce their several effects upon the 
atmospheric movements, and that these must act upon the 
drum of the ear ; but how few of us ever thought of attend- 
ing to them. Such examples show what may be done, in 
the way of improving this sense. 

The blind are notorious for their musical taste and skill, 
owing to the great care they bestow upon the sense of hear- 
ing. And persons not blind have sometimes rivalled their 
afflicted brethren in this particular. Men of naturally dull 
ear, have, by a course of training, brought it to an uncom- 



128 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

mon degree of acuteness. It is somewhere said of a young 
man, whose ear was so dull that he could not distinguish 
between Old Hundred and Yankee Doodle, that by a perse- 
vering study and observation of musical sounds, he at length 
became a very discriminating critic, and a skilful performer 
of the most elaborate harmonies. 

Young persons can scarcely be too much urged, to im- 
prove to the height of their ability the sense of hearing. It 
is not partial deafness, or the reverse, of which I speak ; — 
it is of the quality of the hearing, not the quantity. Many 
a person almost deaf has, in the sense I intend, a good ear ; 
while others, whose hearing is perfect, have a very bad ear.* 
I refer to that quick and nice discrimination, which makes 
the mind sensible to the numerous melodies and harmonies 
of music, and to the varying tones and inflections of human 
eloquence, by which the soul of man puts itself forth into 
the souls of his fellow men ; to the myriad tongues of nature, 
calling from hills, dales, forests, and skies, to reach and 
move our hearts ; to the repeated words of .teachers, labor- 
ing at the ear with incessant toil, to pour the lessons of wis- 
dom into the understanding ; — in short, to all those voices 
from around and above us, which ought to be heard, to 
render us wise and happy. 

Every teacher of youth has observed, how much more 
easily a pupil learns a language, by having the sense of 
hearing well cultivated. Most people are unapprised how 
much depends upon this. Especially in learning a spoken 
language, almost every thing depends upon it. What the 
sense of hearing clearly discerns, we easily remember, and 
learn to utter. 



* The sense of hearing is often uncommonly keen in persons al- 
most deaf, owing perhaps to the fixed attention which they arc compelled 
to give. The fault is wholly in the organ. When I speak of a good or 
bad ear, of the eye seeing, &c., I conform to the popular use of language, in- 
dicating by the name of the organ the sense of which it is the instrument. 
"When the workman says his axe cuts well, his meaning is that he cuts 
well, in the use of a sharp tool; otherwise, the tool, not he, ought to be 
paid for the service. As the best of workmen do poorly with bad tools, 
so the hrightest mental endowment may be frustrated by the capacity of 
its organ. This must excuse my frequent reference to the importance of 
taking the best possible care of the body, if we would have clear and effi- 
cient minds. 



SENSATION. 129 



IMPROVEMENT OP THE SENSATION OP TOUCH. 

I have spoken of the great delicacy of nervous organiza- 
tion at the ends of the fingers. Proof of this, as well as of 
the extent to which the sensation of touch may be improved, 
is furnished in the case of the blind. Let any person who 
has not bestowed special culture upon the sense of touch, 
close his eyes, and undertake to read the blind man's book 
with the ends of his fingers, and he will be as much confound- 
ed as though he were attempting for the first time to read 
Chinese. By careful training, the blind pupil has so edu- 
cated the touch, that he can read with it as accurately as 
others can with the eye. 

In the same way he learns even to distinguish colors. 
Some writer mentions the instance of a blind female, who 
would tell every red from every white or black piece of cloth 
upon the counter in a shop, by simply feeling of it. Such 
facts seem at first incredible, and we are half inclined to sus- 
pect some deception ; but they are well authenticated, and 
after all not incredible. For what is color ? It is something 
in the light — the medium — through which objects are seen ; 
and the reason why one object reflects black and another 
red is, that the material upon the surface is different. This 
material is a subject of touch. The person in question, if 
always blind, had really no just idea of colors ; but when 
once told that a certain piece of cloth was red, she could 
ever after by the touch identify all cloths of the same pecu- 
liar feeling. It is not merely a difference of roughness and 
smoothness, of regularity and irregularity of surface, that 
makes the difference of colors ; for objects of all colors may 
have this : — there is something peculiar in the feel of that 
which reflects the several colors, which none but a highly 
educated touch can discriminate. 

The same skill and accuracy may be obtained by this sense, 
in reference to all objects. " In the celebrated Dr. Saun- 
ders, who lost his sight in very early youth, and remained 
blind through life, although he occupied the professorship of 
mathematics in the English University of Cambridge, the 
touch acquired such acuteness that he could distinguish, by 



130 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

merely letting them pass through his fingers, spurious coins, 
which were so well executed as to deceive even skilful judges 
who could see." * 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF SIGHT. 

No other of the sensations is susceptible of such a variety 
and extent of improvement as this. By accustoming the eye 
to view objects at a distance, the axis of vision may be so elon- 
gated as to extend the sight almost indefinitely. Every 
person who has crossed the ocean, has been struck with the 
fact, that the sailor at a post of observation will discover a 
ship, an iceberg, or a breaker, in the distance, long before 
the passengers can discover the least sign of it. It is be- 
cause he has accustomed his eye especially to this service. 

On the other hand, the student, by habitually placing his 
book near his eyes, contracts a shortness of vision, such that 
he is often unable to recognize his most familiar friend, 
when he passes him in the street. 

The artist, by studiously habituating his eye to observe 
colors, shades, forms, acquires an accuracy of perception in 
regard to them, such as seems to most persons quite incom- 
prehensible. The well trained inspector of wares discovers 
a fault, where others see only perfection. The eye long 
practised to examine proof-sheets, detects errors and defects, 
which escape the notice of all other persons. The architect, 
the gardener, the engineer, by a faithful education of the 
eye, acquires wonderful quickness and accuracy of observa- 
tion in respect to whatever pertains to his peculiar calling. 
To adduce particular examples in proof of these assertions, 
would be superfluous, because numerous facts in point are 
familiar to all. 

* Sec Upham's Philosophy, p. 64. The fact is taken from Memoirs of 
the Manchester Philosophical Society, Vol. I., p. 164. 



SENSATION. 131 



SUMMARY. 



Before leaving the subject of Sensation, let us briefly sur- 
vey our ground. 

1. Sensations are mental affections produced by bodily 
affections. They are purely mental, although they take 
place in the affected parts of the body. The pain of the 
gout is not in the head ; * nor is tooth-ache in the toe : — 
yet both these pains are alike mental. 

2. Although sensations may be popularly considered 
simple affections, yet in strict accuracy they imply two men- 
tal acts, — the change in the mind, and the consciousness of 
it. There must be a change in the state of the mind, and 
the mind must take cognizance of that change, or there can 
be no sensation. The consciousness of a change, makes a 
sensation. The consciousness of pain implies a sensation of 
pain. We thus separate in thought, what is inseparable mfact. 
This may seem a needless refining, but it is founded on the 
distinction which physiology makes between the respective 
offices of nerve and membrane : — the one being an instrument 
of feeling, the other of knowing. Gut off the nerve from 
any organ, and there can be no sensation, because the know- 
ing power, the consciousness, cannot operate. 

3. The mind is a living sentient being, communicating 
with all parts of the body, but not identical with it, or with 
any of its organs. To ascribe sensations to the organs of 
sense, or to the brain, as their ultimate agent, is a doc- 
trine of materialism utterly unsupported by evidence. Va- 
rious causes affect the organs of sense, whereupon the sen- 
tient mind as an agent, taking cognizance of that organic 
change, is itself affected. Thus the organ is the physical 
cause, and the mind the intelligent agent and subject of 

* " The appropriate seat of the gout is in the great toe." Notes from 
the Physiological Lectures of Dr. James Jackson, Boston. — If any sill 
object to assigning localities to sensations, because they are mental, I 
would ask, although the mind is the agent in obtaining education, may it 
not be educated in different places'? It goes to various institutions, to 
learn the various things which make its education complete. So it learns 
its various lessons of sensation, in the several organs or schools which 
God has constituted for this purpose. 



132 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

sensation. The organs of sense, then, are only the media, 
or instruments of communication, between mind and mat- 
ter. 

4. This method of sensation, through bodily organs, is 
merely by divine appointment. It is a temporary arrange- 
ment. For any thing we can see, the same sensations may 
be produced by other means than bodily organs. But for 
reasons in the divine mind, all who live in the flesh must 
realize their first sensations in bodily organs. After taking 
its first lessons, the mind may repeat and enlarge its sensa- 
tions, after the physical organs have ceased to act. This is 
proved by facts, of which abundant evidence will be given. 
Hence, the conscious activity of the mind beyond death, 
and its experience of painful or delightful sensations is, in 
a philosophical view, as probable as any other future 
event. 

Those who suppose that death divests us of all capacity of 
experiencing sensations, because it divests us of the organs 
of sense, should consider that sensations are strictly mental, 
and that the mind is invested with powers of retention and 
repetition, by which it can realize over and over again, in 
endless varieties and combinations, sensations received 
through the bodily organs, after those organs have ceased 
to act. Suspend all the organs of sensation, so that the one 
cannot supersede and counteract the other, and not only the 
sensation, but the object of it, becomes to the mind a reality. 
What the mind then perceives becomes a conception, replac- 
ing as it were the very object itself. Such, we are to sup- 
pose, is the condition of the mind between death and the resur- 
rection. The sensations then experienced, had their origin 
in this mortal body. The body dies ; — sensations may live ; 
pleasurable or painful, according to the character and rela- 
tions of the mind. The resurrection of the body will invest 
us with other capacities, of a similar but higher nature. 

5. Sensations give rise to our first ideas, and are thus 
at the foundation of all our knowledge. They also give rise 
to our first desires, and through them to affections and voli- 
tions. Hence, as intellectual, social, and moral beings, as 
well as subjects of pleasure and pain, we are ultimately de- 
pendent on sensations. As we have these in common with 



SENSATION. 133 

brutes, our superiority is not derived from greater or more 
numerous capacities of sensation, but from the possession of 
other and higher attributes, to be considered in their place. 
Man and the brute start together with sensations, but the 
brute, having nothing higher than the capacity for these, 
soon runs his circuit and passes with his body to the dust ; 
— man, having higher attributes, passes from mere animal 
sensations to a higher mode of being. Such are the teach- 
ings of philosophy, as enlightened by Christianity and sup- 
ported by facts. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XL 

What is the opening remark 1 "What does sensation involve ? What 
is said of difference of capacities ? To what is it owing ? How may all 
the organs of sensation be improved ? How injured ? Subjoined re- 
marks. What is said of the reciprocal action of the sense and the organ ? 
Illustration. What two advantages are secured to the senses by their 
proper use ? How illustrated ? Remark. What is said of habit ? What 
habits should young people endeavor to form ? What is said of the sen- 
sation of smell ? What improvements have been made of this sensation ? 
What habits are particularly injurious to it ? What is said of it as a 
source of knowledge ? On what does the discrimination of taste depend ? 
Illustration. Into what does unduly excited taste degenerate % The 
consequence. What error is here noticed I How replied to 1 What is 
Stewart's remark ? What is said of gluttony ? Of experienced cooks * 
Anecdote. The inebriate % Concluding remarks on taste. What is im- 
proving the sensation of hearing 1 Fact. For what are the blind noto- 
rious ? What is said of a young man of remarkably dull ear ? What 
constitutes what is called a good ear ? What has every teacher observed ? 
What example is given of great improvement in the sensation of touch 1 
What does some writer mention 1 Are such things incredible ? Why 
not ? Has the person in question any just idea of colors ? What is said 
here? Case of Dr. Saunders ? Comparative susceptibility to improve- 
ment of the sensation of sight ? Illustration. The artist 1 Inspector, 
&c. 1 What are sensations ? Where do they take place \ What two 
things do they imply ? What two physical parts are essential to sensation 1 

12 



134 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Of what is each the instrument ? What is the mind? May we ascribe sen- 
sations to the organs of sense, or to the brain, as their agent ? What then 
is the organ, as related to sensation % And what the mind, in this relation % 
To what is this method of sensation referable 1 What may the mind do, 
after taking its first lessons in sensation? The inference ? What is* said 
respecting sensations after death ? To what do sensations giye rise ?'. 
What is said of man and the brute in this connection ? 



CHAPTER XII 



PERCEPTION. 



No subject in intellectual philosophy has occasioned more 
controversy than this. It has been involved with theories 
respecting the nature of ideas, the origin of knowledge, the 
reality of an external world. It was formerly connected 
with the great dispute respecting nominalism and realism ; — 
that is, with the metaphysical question, whether our ideas 
are mere names, or realities existing in nature. The doc- 
trine of realism — that our ideas are archetypes, according 
to which all things in the external world are formed — pre- 
vailed from the time of Aristotle till that of Roscellinus, in 
the eleventh century. It was subsequently disputed, and 
the controversy rose even to blood-shed r Among the more 
modern nomalists, Reid and Stuart may be named. 

It is certainly a question of great interest, under what 
circumstances, and to what extent, we may trust our percep- 
tions, to give us knowledge of the external world ? This is 
the only question at issue, of any practical importance. 
And to this will our principal inquiries be directed. To 
review all the theories of the schools upon this subject, would 
far transcend our limits, and serve rather to confuse than 
edify the reader. If some of the following statements shall 
seem too simple to need to be made, let it be remembered, 
that the points defined have been subjects of endless contro- 
versy. The greatest truths in science are often the simplest, 
and yet the most difficult to state — strange as it may seem 
— just because they are so simple. 



136 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



PERCEPTION DEFINED. 



Perception is the next mental act after sensation. It con- 
ducts the mind, from sensation itself \ to its cause. It is a 
more purely mental act, and of a higher order. Thus, I 
have a painful sensation resulting from the prick of a pin ; — 
perception reveals to me the cause of it. I taste something 
bitter, perception discovers to me what that something is. 
Riding out on a bright spring morning, my sense of smell is 
regaled with a delicious odor ; — looking into the fields, I 
perceive the cause of it, in the full blown orchards. Con- 
sidered as a mental attribute, therefore, perception may be 
defined, The power of discerning the causes of our 

SENSATIONS. 



INTUITIVE PERCEPTION. 

Perception is also applied, in a less restricted sense, to 
the mind's notice of metaphysical truths, mathematical axi- 
oms, and the connection and force of argumentative reason- 
ing. It is in such cases synonymous with intuition. The 
individual mental acts here, are intuitive perceptions. We 
may therefore consider them under the head of intuition. We 
have the authority of the best classical writers on philosophy, 
for abiding by the restricted definition of perception. 



MUTUAL RELATIONS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 

We now restrict our enquiries to perceiving by the 
senses, and we ought to notice the mutual relations of sen- 
sation and perception. When we realize a sensation, we 
feel a desire to know the cause of it. Perception enables us 
to gratify that desire. Hence, sensation is the prompter to 
knowledge ; — perception is the obtainer of it. Sensation 
sets the mind at work, perception accomplishes the under- 
taking. Without sensation, we should never desire to know 
any thing of the world around us ; and without perception, 
however much we might desire the knowledge, we could 
never obtain it. 



PERCEPTION. 137 

MORE PARTICULAR DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN SENSATION AND 
PERCEPTION. 

As readers are wont to confound sensation with percep- 
tion, and writers have often failed duly to distinguish be- 
tween them, let us more particularly mark the difference. 
They differ in these two respects. 

1. Sensations have nothing to do ivithwhat is extraneous 
to our minds. The organic change is necessary to the sen- 
sation, but is not of itself any part of it. Strictly speaking, 
the sensation begins and ends with the mind itself. Percep- 
tion carries the mind quite out of itself to the causes of its 
sensations. These causes, or objects of perception, may be 
found in our own bodies, as well as around us, but never in 
our minds ; — for what is in our minds, is known by con- 
sciousness, not by perception. 

2. All ideas obtained by sensations are cognitions. What 
we experience, we know. But we cannot be said to experi- 
ence causes. We experience the effects of causes ; — these 
effects are sensations. But we know causes only by percep- 
tion, and perception may deceive us. Hence, while our 
sensations are subjects of positive knowledge, without any 
question, our perceptions must be examined, before what 
they profess to reveal is positively known. This examination 
is our present task. 



ENTITIES AND NON-ENTITIES. 

The term entity is employed to designate any thing hav- 
ing existence independently of our idea of it. It will be 
recollected, that one of the questions of the schools was, 
whether any thing really exists, excepting in idea. An 
entity, then, is any thing that has actual existence ; so that 
even an idea is itself an entity. The term entity is from a 
Greek and a Latin word, which signifies whatever is. En- 
tities include all abstract and necessary facts, such as time, 
space, number, on which the exact sciences are built ; all 

12* 



138 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

spiritual existences, virtues, vices, mental states; and material 
substances, in all their forms. At present, we have to do 
mostly with the latter, as these only are objects of perception 
by the senses. Non-entity, is a term designating the oppo- 
site of entity ; — that which has no existence, excepting in 
idea. 

OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE ENTITIES. 

Objective entities are things themselves ; subjective entities 
are our ideas of them. Of the latter, we are conscious ; but 
how do we know the former exist ? I answer, First, all 
ideas of material objects are derived from the objects them- 
selves. This has been proved, in showing that a man blind 
from his birth has no idea of colors ; a man deaf from his 
birth, no idea of sounds, &c. To deny the reality of ob- 
jective entities, is then to admit an effect without a cause. 
If the one exist — and that it does we are conscious— 
the other must exist. Secondly, our combined senses teach 
us that there are objective entities, as truly as our con- 
sciousness does, that we have ideas of them. I take an 
orange in my hand, look upon it, feel of it, cut it, smell it, 
taste it, and thus obtain the direct testimony of my senses to 
its existence and qualities. The orange itself, not the idea 
of it, is now the subject of my attention. Afterwards, in 
the absence of the orange, I have only the idea of it. I am 
conscious of having this idea, and know experimentally that 
whatever it is, it is not the orange itself. I should perhaps 
be very glad if it were. But it is neither round, yellow, 
fragrant, nor delicious ; it has no form ; I can neither handle, 
cut, nor eat it. Yet it is something, — it is a real idea, — 
and an idea of that orange. We thus see the distinction 
between objective and subjective entities, and that both have 
actual existence. 

TRUE PERCEPTIONS. 

< Those perceptions are true, in which our ideas correspond 
with their objective entities ; — that is, in which we perceive 
things to be what they really are. We must however 



PERCEPTION. 139 

remember, that there is no resemblance between our ideas of 
entities, and entities themselves. A stone is a solid sub- 
stance ; — our idea of a stone is not a solid substance, nor 
any thing like it. What then do we mean, when we speak 
of our ideas corresponding with their objective entities? 
Simply this, — that the difference between entities is repre- 
sented by some corresponding difference of ideas ; so that a 
given idea becomes to us the exclusive representative of its ap- 
propriate object. Such is our mental constitution, that the 
same entity, when fairly noticed, always produces in the 
mind the same representative idea. If this were not so, we 
could not have that mutual understanding of things around 
us, which enables us, in their absence, to converse about 
them. * Although my idea of fire is not like fire, nor my 
idea of water like water, yet, when I have an idea of fire, 
or an idea of water, I have the same object in view which 
my neighbor has, when he has an idea of the one, or 
of the other. Why ideas, so wholly unlike objects without 
us, should yet become representatives of them, is a question 
of curiosity beyond our reach. We can only say, it is so, 
because God has made it so to be. The reason why he has 
done it, none can fail to see. The world would otherwise 
have been a babel. It is perhaps no more strange, after all, 
than that words, so unlike the things they represent, should 
yet be made to represent them. The one is of human edu- 
cation, the other of divine constitution. Nor is the case ma- 
terially altered, whether we adopt Brown's theory, that ideas 
are only mental states, or the theory, that they are some- 
thing distinct from the mind. 



* " In all our reflections on absent entities, and our attempts to classify 
them, our ideas of their properties, and not the properties themselves, are 
the subjects of our attention. We spend our whole life in acquiring men- 
tal representatives of different entities in the universe ; but can classify 
these entities only by comparing and arranging the ideas thus obtained." 
— " All men have the same uniform representatives of entities ; hence, 
they can converse intelligibly about them. If the same entity afforded to 
different persons different representatives of itself, men could no more 
converse intelligibly about it, than if they did not understand the same 
language." Schmuker's Psychology, pps. 38, 65. 



140 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 



EXAMPLES OF TRUE PERCEPTION. 

I observe what appears to be an animal grazing in the 
field. It looks to me like a horse ; — that is, the idea which 
I am led to form of it, is that of a horse. If the animal 
really is a horse, my perception is true. It must be remem- 
bered, that the perception gives the idea, not the idea the 
perception. On this point the schoolmen were exactly wrong. 
They supposed the idea innate — existing in the mind before 
the object is seen — and that it gives rise to the perception. 
A friend presents to me a flower, and asks me, of what kind it 
is. I look at it, smell of it, and perceive it to be what is 
called a pink. If my perception is true, the flower really is 
what I perceive it to be. Thus in all cases, when the idea 
corresponds with the object, the perception is true. We 
then have what Locke calls an adequate idea. The reader 
must excuse the apparently unnecessary illustration of what 
seems so simple. The importance of the subject, and the 
mystery which has so much enveloped it, is the apology. 



FALSE PERCEPTIONS. 

Those perceptions are false, in which our ideas do not 
correspond with their entities ; — that is, in which we do not 
perceive things to be as they really are. They may arise 
from three causes, a fault of the organ, a fault of the medium, 
a fault of the mind. First, some defect in the organ of sense 
may occasion false perceptions. When any instrument, as a 
telescope, is out of order, it often reports falsely. Secondly, 
the medium through which objects are perceived, may pro- 
duce an illusion. Objects seen through a mist, or through 
imperfect glass, or by reflected rays, may be falsely painted 
on the retina, and thus deceive us. Thirdly, hallucinations, 
or certain deranged states of intellect, may also give rise to 
false perceptions. 



PERCEPTION. 141 



EXAMPLES OF FALSE PERCEPTIONS. 

A person under the influence of a disease, which particu- 
larly affects the organ of taste, was requested by a friend, 
who wished to experiment upon her discrimination of flavors, 
to eat some brown sugar. Not being told what it was, she 
put it in her mouth, and immediately rejected it, supposing 
it to be sand. The diseased organ of taste was insensible 
to sweet, and the sensation being that usually produced by 
taking dry sand into the mouth, led to a false perception. 
A person looking through a pain of uneven glass, perceived, 
as he supposed, a man murdering a child with an axe. The 
man was really several feet from the child, splitting wood, 
and the child was gathering some sticks in his arms. A man 
entering a large hotel, was making rapid strides through its 
spacious hall, when he suddenly dashed against a mirror. 
The reflected rays from the mirror had doubled the apparent 
length of the hall, and thus deceived him. In all these cases 
the mind was true, being deceived by the means with which 
it operated. Examples, in which the mind is in fault, will be 
given under the head of insanity. 



HOW WE MAY KNOW WHETHER OUR PERCEPTIONS ARE TRUE. 

This has been one of the most important and disputed 
points in mental science. Is there an external world? And 
if there is, how may we know it? Some have concluded, 
with Berkeley, that there is none, but that all which passes 
with us for it exists merely in idea. Others have concluded, 
with Hume, that for ought we can tell, there may be one and 
may not. 

Under the head of objective and subjective entities, I 
have adduced what appears to be one conclusive proof of the 
objectivity of our ideas. But the exact point now is, how we 
may know the truth or falseness of any particular perception. 
There is a way of testing perceptions ; and, when duly tested, 
the knowledge they afford may be as firmly relied upon, as 
that afforded by our sensations. I may as certainly know 



142 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the reality of an object before me, or in my hands, as that of 
the pain which I feel in my tooth. 

For the present, we will suppose the organs of sense and 
the mind in a sound state. Let the following particulars be 
noticed. 

PHYSICAL ENTITIES ARE KNOWN BY CONTACT. 

The influence of physical entities is always exerted by 
actual contact with the organ. Thus, in smelling, the olfac- 
tory organs are touched by particles emanating from the 
odorous body. Place that body in a close vessel, and there 
is no odor from it. In tasting, the gustatory organs are 
touched by the thing tasted. Let those organs be coated, 
and there is no taste. In hearing, the drum of the ear is 
struck by the atmospheric vibrations. Cut off these vibra- 
tions from the ear, or paralyze the auditory nerve, and 
nothing is heard. In vision, the organ of sight is touched 
by the rays of light coming from the object viewed. Cut off 
these rays from contact with the eye, and nothing is seen. 

Such being the fact, we may at once dismiss all specula- 
tions and difficulties respecting the passage of impressions to 
the mind, by nervous fluids, cerebral vibrations, &c, and 
also respecting intervening ideas, or images, which might give 
rise to false perceptions. The naked truth comes to be this. 
Here is a sense, with its organ. When something actually 
touches that organ, an impression is made, and the attentive 
mind knoivs it. This is sensation. And now, can the mind 
take another step and know infallibly what that something is f 
I maintain that it can. 



EACH ENTITY IS ORIGINALLY KNOWN BY ITS APPROPRIATE 

SENSE. 

Until our perception is educated, so to speak, we must 
rely, for the absolute accuracy of it, on that sense only which 
is originally appropriate to the object. A great source of 
doubt, in regard to our perceptions, has arisen from relying 
on the wrong sense. Thus, when we rely upon the eye, in a 



PERCEPTION. 143 

case where any thing but colors is to be perceived, we may 
be liable to deception. Let the reader, then, refer to what 
has been said in relation to the specific office of each sense. 

The greatest source of false perceptions is the eye. It is 
so much more easy and rapid an instrument of perception 
than the hand, that we are led to place ultimate reliance 
upon it. But all must admit, that if we had no evidence of 
an external world, excepting what the eye affords, we could 
not know that such a world exists. Every man has had 
optical illusions enough practised upon him, to have learned 
this. But when the hand is applied, all illusion, if there was 
any, is dispelled; and the mind knows whether the percep- 
tion is true, 

ENTITIES MAY ALSO BE KNOWN BY OTHER THAN THEIR 
APPROPRIATE SENSES. 

When one sense has become accustomed to take the place 
of another, we may ordinarily trust its decisions. For in- 
stance, although we must originally rely upon the touch for 
our knowledge of objects around us, yet when the eye has 
been trained, we may in most cases depend upon its percep- 
tions. It was obviously designed to supply the place of the 
hand, as a more rapid and convenient instrument ; and, when 
properly taught, it will do it with entire accuracy. And 
this teaching of it comes as a matter of course. All persons, 
favored with sight from infancy, have so disciplined their 
eye, that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it does not de- 
ceive them. When they ride in the country, they do not need 
to descend from their carriage into the fields, and put their 
hands upon every object they see, to make their perceptions 
sure. When they look upon a great city, they need not thread 
the streets, and lay their hands on all parts of all the build- 
ings, to be certain that they are not mere " castles of airy 
fancy. " When they meet their friends, they need not feel 
them, in order to be sure that their perceptions are true, and 
that there is no risk in tendering to them their welcome. 
Indeed, the eye has been so accustomed to notice them, that 
it has become a more certain instrument than the hand. 



144 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

All civil courts rely upon the testimony of the eye. Men 
are arraigned, tried, condemned, executed, on the mere tes- 
timony of the eye, where only that of the hand is our original 
and ultimate reliance. How idle, then, the speculations of 
those philosophers, who would bring the reality of all we see 
into doubt. 



HOW THE ORGANS OP SENSE ARE TESTED. 

I have said, that our organs of sense may be in a state to 
deceive us. How can we know whether they are so ? I 
answer, by comparing our perceptions with those of mankind 
in general. Disorder is the exception, not the rule. The 
perceptions of the great body of mankind are the standard. 
If, for instance, all objects present to me one color, where 
others see a variety, I am to infer that my organ of vision is 
disordered, and must not trust it. If I do, I am liable to 
take silver for gold. So, also, if my taste, smell, &c. are con- 
tradicted by the perceptions of mankind in general, I am to 
infer some organic derangement. Cases of organic defect, 
like the above, sometimes occur; and they are easily de- 
tected. 



HOW THE MEDIA OP PERCEPTION ARE TESTED. 

Media of perception are tested by experiment. A rod, 
with one end under water, looks crooked. Take it from the 
water, and it looks straight. We thus learn that the appar- 
ent crookedness of the rod was owing to the medium in which 
a part of it was seen. A stump, seen through a dense mist, 
may look like a man ; — after the mist has gone, it looks 
like itself. To a person having on green spectacles, all crea- 
tion looks green ; — even the dazzling sun is of a sickly hue.' 
Take them off, and creation resumes her natural colors. In 
this way children amuse themselves ; and experiment teaches 
them, long before they reach manhood, what philosophers 
have so often failed to learn — when they may rely upon their 
perceptions. 



PERCEPTION. 145 



HOW THE SANITY OF THE MIND IS TESTED. 

Supposing the organs of sense sound, and the media of 
perception understood, the mind may be in fault, and how is 
this to be known ? No man may be his own judge. The 
very fact that a man's intellect is disordered, disqualifies him 
for this office. Judgment passes from his mind to that of 
others. When others see him the unhappy victim of false 
perceptions, which can be refered to no cause but the mind, 
the case is too painfully clear to justify withholding the mer- 
ciful appliances due to an insane person. 

These, then, are the conditions under which we may know 
whether our perceptions are true. The question which we 
have started, is answered. If we are sure the right sense is 
applied, the organ sound, the medium proved, the mind sane 
— and sure we may be — what we think we perceive, we 
certainly do perceive. Under these circumstances, what we 
learn by perception is as certain knowledge as what we learn 
by sensation. 



PERCEPTION PRE-STJPPOSES ATTENTION." 

There can be no perception without some kind of atten- 
tion. The mere presence of an object to the organ of sense, 
does not make us perceive it. The image of an object upon 
the retina, does not of itself make us see the object. Thou- 
sands of pictures of objects are every day impinged on the 
retina of the eye, of which no notice is taken ; — myriads of 
vibrations on the ear, of odorous particles in the organ of 
smell, of things touching our bodies, are not perceived, for 
want of attention. As it is the mind that perceives, if 
its attention is diverted or wanting, there can be no per- 
ception. 

It has been previously shown, that even sensation supposes, 
at least, involuntary attention, and there can be no perception 
without sensation. Other things equal, the more fixed the 
attention, the more clear and accurate will be the per 
ception. 

13 



146 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



PROCESS OF PERCEPTION. 

Is the full perception of an object strictly instantaneous, 
or is it gradual ? My opinion favors the theory, that it is 
to some extent gradual ; although so unfortunate in this par- 
ticular as to differ somewhat from Dugald Stewart, and also 
from Prof. Upham, who quotes him with approbation. As 
most that Stewart says, on this point, expresses what I would 
wish to say, I will quote him entire, and then notice what I 
judge erroneous. " Suppose the eye," he says, " fixed in 
a particular position, and the picture of an object to be 
painted on the retina. Does the mind perceive the complete 
figure of the object at once, or is this perception the result 
of the various perceptions we have of the different points in 
the outline ? With respect to this question, the principles 
already stated lead me to conclude, that the mind does at 
one and the same time perceive every point in the outline 
of the object, ( provided the whole of it be painted on the 
retina at the same instant, ) for perception, like conscious- 
ness, is an involuntary operation. As no two points, how- 
ever, of the outline are in the same direction, every point, 
constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the mind, 
as if it were separated by an interval of empty space from 
all the rest. If the doctrine, therefore, formerly stated be 
just, it is impossible for the mind to attend to more than one 
of these points at once ; and as the perception of the figure 
of the object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of 
the different points, with respect to each other, we must con- 
clude, that the perception of figure by the eye, is the result 
of a number of acts of attention. These acts of attention, 
however, are performed with such rapidity, that the effect, 
with respect to us, is the same as if the perception were 
instantaneous." 

" In farther confirmation of this reasoning, it may be re- 
marked, that if the perception of visible figure were an im- 
mediate consequence of the picture on the retina, we should 
have, at the first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a 
thousand sides, as of a triangle or a square. The truth is, 
that where the figure is very simple, the process of the mind 



PERCEPTION. 147 

is so rapid, that the perception seems to be instantaneous ; 
but when the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, 
the interval of time necessary for these different acts of 
attention becomes perceptible." 

" It may, perhaps, be asked, what I mean by a point in the 
outline of a figure, and what it is that constitutes this point 
one object of attention ? The answer, I apprehend, is, that 
this point is the minimum visibile. If the point be less, we 
cannot perceive it ; if it be greater, it is not all seen in one 
direction. If these observations be admitted, it will follow, 
that, without the faculty of memory, we could have had no 
perception of visible figure." * 

These observations are ingenious, and seem to be in the 
main sound and instructive. With some exceptions, they 
are what we should all probably wish to say on the subject 
of perception. The exceptions which I would make are 
these : — He supposes perception without attention, and on 
the ground that " perception is an involuntary operation," 
concludes that " the mind does at one and the same time 
perceive every point in the outline of the object, provided 
the whole of it be painted on the retina at the same instant." 
Attention is partly voluntary, and partly involuntary.! In- 
voluntary, when something is addressed to the sensibilities 
so urgently as to force attention ; voluntary, when the at- 
tention is designedly given : — now, the reasons before 
assigned seem conclusive, that without some attention there 
can be no perception. My inference is, " that the mind 
does " not " at one and the same time perceive every point 
in the outline of the object," but that its final perception is 
the result of several combined perceptions. The only differ- 
ence between us, is, Stewart supposes that the mind per- 
ceives "every point in the outline of the object," at once, 
but does not attend to it ; whereas, I suppose the mind does 
not perceive the whole at once, for the want of the requisite 
attention. The want of this attention he allows, and there- 
fore, placing attention in the relation of a necessary means of 
perception, his argument is a beautiful and conclusive one in 
favor of the view which I have maintained. 

* Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 78. 

t This subject will be more fully considered under the head of attention. 



148 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XII. 

What is said of controversies on the subject of perception ? What is 
the only important question at issue ? What is said of the greatest truths 
in science ? What is perception, considered as a mental act ? What, con- 
sidered as a mental attribute ? What is intuitive perception 1 To what are 
present enquiries restricted 1 What are the relative offices of sensation 
and perception ? In how many respects do sensation and perception 
differ ? First ? Second ? What is an entity ? What do entities include ? 
What is a non-entity ? Objective entities 1 Subjective ? How do we know 
the latter ? How, frst, do we know the former ? How, secondly ? — Illus- 
trate. What perceptions are true 1 What must we remember ? What 
do we mean, when we speak of ideas corresponding with entities ? Illus- 
trate. Why do ideas, so unlike their objects, represent them 1 Remarks. 
Give examples of true perception. Does perception give the idea, or the 
idea the perception % What is said of the schoolmen 1 What are false 
perceptions'? Erom what may they arise ? First cause? Second 1 Third! 
Give examples of false perception. What has been one of the most impor- 
tant and disputed points ? What have Berkeley and others concluded ? 
What Hume and others 1 What is now the exact point 1 What is said 
of testing perceptions ? How are physical entities known 1 Illustrations } 
Inference 1 By what is each entity originally known ? What is the 
greatest source of false perceptions 1 What must all admit ? What may 
we do after one sense has become accustomed to take the place of another ? 
Examples. What is said of civil courts 1 How may we test our organs 
of sense ? Example ? How may we test the media of perception ? Ex- 
ample. How may we test the sanity of the mind % What does per- 
ception pre-suppose ? Remarks. Other things equal, on what does 
clearness and accuracy of attention depend ? Is the full perception of an 
object instantaneous or gradual ? Let the reader examine what is said, and 
give his own opinion. 



CHAPTER XIII. 
CONCEPTION. 



We have now reached the point where we may suppose 
the ideas of the external world fairly presented to the mind. 
It is believed that the way has been pointed out, by which 
we not only obtain our ideas of things around us, but by 
which we may certainly know that those ideas are correct. 
The next subject in course is conception. Considered as a 
mental faculty, it is, in the strictest sense, that power by 
which we form notions of absent objects of perception and of 
past sensations. 

This definition will be best understood by an example. 
A man has visited Niagara Falls, and perceived the sublime 
object there displayed. After returning home, that object 
frequently comes up to his mind afresh. While standing 
upon the banks of the river and looking upon the cataract, 
he had a perception of it ; the recurrence of that object to 
his mind, after returning home, is a conception of it. The 
mind first perceives the object, before it conceives it ; and it 
never conceives a physical object but in its absence. Per- 
ception is the introduction of a stranger ; conception the 
entertaining of an acquaintance. The first looks at a thing; 
the second takes it up, to hold it before the mind as an 
object of contemplation. So of a sensation. It is first ex- 
perienced, as a present reality ; it afterward recurs to the 
mind, and is, as it were, felt over again ; thus the former 
experience becomes a conception. 
13* 



150 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



CONCEPTION OP SPECULATIVE TRUTHS. 

The term conception is also applied, in popular language, 
to abstract and metaphysical truths. It is thus used with 
the same latitude assigned to perception. Dugald Stewart 
says, " In ordinary language, we apply the same word, per- 
ception, to the knowledge which we have, by our senses, of 
external objects, and to our knowledge of speculative truths ; 
and yet an author would be justly censured, who should 
treat of these two operations of the mind under the same 
article of perception. I apprehend there is as wide a dif- 
ference between the conception of a truth, and the concep- 
tion of an absent object of sense, as between the perception 
of a tree, and the perception of a mathematical theorem." 
There is, undoubtedly, the same difference in the one case as 
in the other ; the instances are exactly parallel. In the 
one case, it is an intuitive conception, in the other an intui- 
tive perception. The perceptive and conceptive mental 
acts sustain to each other the same relation, whether ap- 
plied to internal or external objects. 

FURTHER APPLICATION OF THE TERM. 

Conception is also applied to the mental act, by which we 
form a notion of objects described, or in any way represented. 
A history, a drama, a play, furnishes materials of percep- 
tion, from which the mind conceives the objects represented. 
It is evident, that in all these cases, the mental act of con- 
ceiving is essentially one and the same. 

DISTINCTION BETWEEN CONCEPTION AND MEMORY. 

At first view, conception may seem to be the same as 
memory. But, on examination, it will appear that they 
differ in essential particulars. They do certain things in 
common, but each has also its peculiar offices. 

Memory goes back to the time, place, circumstances, in 
which objects were perceived. Conception has nothing to 



CONCEPTION. 151 

do with all these.* It stays at home and takes the objects 
there, as handed over to it by memory. The latter is 
servant to the former. Memory collects the materials, 
conception re-forms them into the semblance of the original 
structure. " When a painter makes a picture of a friend, 
who is absent or dead, he is commonly said to paint from 
memory ; and the expression is sufficiently correct for com- 
mon conversation. But in an analysis of mind, there is 
ground for a distinction. The power of conception enables 
him to make the features of his friend an object of thought, 
so as to copy the resemblance ; the power of memory recog- 
nizes these features as a former object of perception. Every 
act of memory includes an idea of the past ; conception im- 
plies no idea of time whatever." f 

Moreover, an object is often conceived on representations, 
at the very time they are made. 



DISTINCTION BETWEEN CONCEPTION AND IMAGINATION. 

The distinction between conception and imagination may 
not be at first so obvious. These also have some things in 
common, but they have still distinct offices. Conception 
takes all the materials which memory brings to it, and re- 
forms them into the identical semblance of the original struc- 
ture ; — Imagination selects such materials as it pleases, and 
forms them into similar, varied, or quite original structures, 
to suit the fancy. Hence, conception is re-formative ; im- 
agination re-creative. Conception presents an exact tran- 
script of the objects of perception. Imagination exhibits 
them under every fanciful variety. A more particular 



* Keid usually identifies conception with imagination. On the other 
hand, owing probably to the common doctrine of ideas, Des Cartes, 
Gassendi, Locke, Hume, and Berkeley, often identify it with perception. I 
am, therefore, led to be what might otherwise seem unnecessarily ex- 
plicit on these points. 

t Stewart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 79. Shakespeare calls this power, 
" The minoVs eye." 

" My father ! Methinks I see my father ! " 

" Where, my lord?? 

" In my mind's eye, Horatio." 



152 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

account of memory and imagination, will be given under the 
appropriate heads. 

VIVIDNESS OF CONCEPTIONS. 

There is a great difference between men, as to the vivid- 
ness of their conceptions ; and, also, in the same man, between 
his conceptions of different objects. Things which we have 
seen, recur to us most readily. The sight of an object 
paints it, as it were, upon the mind, in such vivid form and 
color, as to leave less for conception to do. When once an 
object has been clearly seen by the natural eye, there is 
ever after an exact image of that object at the service of the 
mind. That the form or image of an object greatly facili- 
tates our conception of it, is a matter of universal experience. 
How much more easily does the pupil conceive of the form 
and movements of the earth, by looking upon an artificial 
globe. 

INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON CONCEPTION. 

Another reason why we more easily conceive of objects of 
sight than of others, is found in the influence of association. 
All objects, which address the eye, are complex; they have 
more or less of parts. If, then, only one part or feature 
of the complex object is recalled, association helps to replace 
the whole. There is presented, as it were, a variety of 
points for the mind to lay hold of, in its attempts to recover 
the object. The same association extends to surrounding 
objects. 

Objects of taste, smell, feeling, hearing, present no form 
or image of themselves. There is nothing that they look 
like ; nothing pictured to the mind, to assist in conceiving 
them. Being also much more simple than objects of sight, 
they present fewer points of apprehension. 



CONCEPTION. 153 



INFLUENCE OF ATTENTION ON CONCEPTION. 

In smelling, tasting, &c, the mind is mostly passive. 
Comparatively little attention is demanded. It has been 
already observed, that when we look upon an object, as a 
picture, house, landscape, we do not embrace the whole at 
the first glance. The mind takes up one point at a time, 
and, by a process of active attention, rapidly combines them 
into a whole. Now, it is a known law of mind, that what is 
acquired with most effort, is ordinarily the most firmly re- 
taine d. As the perception of an object becomes clear and 
full, the conception of it becomes proportionately vivid. 
An artist looks upon a fine picture. As he gazes, point 
after point falls under his notice, until after perhaps hours 
or days of attentive study, the picture is unfolded to his 
perception in something of the minuteness and fullness of 
its real excellence. He has mastered it. As his mind has 
thus taken firm possession of it, ever after, when memory 
serves, conception readily re-forms it. But let him merely 
smell or taste of something, and the sensation comes and 
goes in a moment. He is almost wholly passive in it ; it 
flits through his mind, and is gone. It is, therefore, with 
difficulty — a difficulty proportioned to the ease with which 
it came — that he can afterwards recall it. 



CONCEPTION OF MUSICAL SOUNDS. 

Next to visible objects, sounds are most readily conceived. 
This may be accounted for, first, because they require more 
attention than objects of taste, smell, &c. ; secondly, because 
they excite more deep mental feeling, and are therefore 
better remembered ; thirdly, because they are attended 
with more association of ideas ; and fourthly, because there 
is more exact repetition. Precisely the same taste, smell, 
or feeling, probably never recurs ; there is of these an end- 
less variety of modifications, perpetually recurring, so as to 
confuse the conception of any one of them. But musical 
sounds are distinct, unique; the same note being struck 



154 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

over and over again. The perception of the sound thus 
becomes exact, and the subsequent conceptions of it propor- 
tionably distinct and vivid. 



INFLUENCE OF HABIT ON CONCEPTIONS OF SIGHT. 

Our conceptions may be indefinitely improved. " A person 
accustomed to drawing, retains a much more perfect notion of 
a building, or of a landscape, which he has seen, than any 
one who has never practised that art. A portrait painter 
traces the form of a human body from memory, with as little 
exertion of attention as he employs in writing the letters 
which compose his name." * I have known several persons, 
whose conceptions were at first so feeble, that they could 
hardly arrange the outlines of an absent object, by a course 
of diligent training, succeed in such efforts admirably. 
This was, perhaps, in part owing to the increase of mechan- 
ical skill, but more to the increased clearness and vigor of 
perception. 

INFLUENCE OF HABIT ON CONCEPTIONS OF MUSICAL SOUNDS. 

Scarcely less marked is the improvement of which con- 
ceptions of sound are susceptible. The ear, nearly as much 
as the eye, requires to be educated ; and this, especially, 
in relation to musical sounds. Probably not one in a thou- 
sand has a discriminating perception of melodies and harmo- 
nies, until experience has taught him ; and until his percep- 
tions of them become distinct, his conceptions must of course 
be confused. 

Through the mind of the inexperienced youth, the strains 
of the opera float as a confused mass of pleasing sounds. 
In process of time, his perceptions become discriminating ; 
the strains then recur to him on days following the exhibi- 
tion, not, as at first, in unmeaning confusion, but in the order 
and beauty of well arranged harmonies. Nothing but the 
knowledge of musical characters is wanting, to reduce them 
to paper. When this knowledge is acquired, and the asso- 

* Stuart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 81. 



CONCEPTION. 155 

ciation is established between the notes and the sounds, a 
person may mentally realize the most exquisite music, by 
merely looking upon the notes. There is music in the mind, 
though not in the ear. Beethoven is said to have composed 
some of his finest pieces of music after he became deaf. 
The music, in his mind, he imprinted on the page, and left it 
to those blest with hearing to interpret, and give audible 
utterance to his symbols. 

CONCEPTION SUBSERVIENT TO DESCRIPTION. 

It is believed, on good grounds, that a person of vivid 
conception will write a better description of an absent than 
of a present object. Conception never replaces all the 
points perceived. It recalls those that made the deepest 
impression — the most characteristic and important. And 
these, seeing all the points of an object cannot be described, 
are the right ones to be presented. The most successful 
painter is he, who seizes upon the most characteristic fea- 
tures of his subject, and exhausts his talents upon them. 
This was eminently the method of the distinguished modern 
artists, Peal and Stuart. For the same reason, the most 
successful writer is he, who presents vividly the most strik- 
ing and characteristic particulars of whatever he attempts 
to describe. These are ordinarily the very particulars 
which his conceptions furnish. 

EACTS IN PROOF. 

Thompson, the celebrated author of the Seasons, spent a 
large part of his earlier years amid rural scenes. He after- 
wards retired to a garret, in London, and there re-wrote those 
glowing descriptions of country scenery, which have immor- 
talized his fame. Homer and Milton, the princes of ancient 
and modern poetry, were blind at the time they wrote, and 
of course wrote solely from conception and imagination. 
Young, Cowper, Scott, Campbell, Gray, were retired from 
the busy scenes of the world, at the time they wrote. 
Nearly all poetry and other descriptive compositions, have 



156 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

been written some time after, and at a distance from, the 
time and place at which the objects described were seen. 



IS CONCEPTION ATTENDED WITH BELIEF? 

Some have supposed that every act of conception is 
attended with a belief of the existence and presence of its 
object. Of this number is Dugald Stewart. " Every 
exertion of that power," he supposes, " is accompanied with 
a belief, that its object exists before us at the present mo- 
ment." In illustration of this he says, " When a painter 
conceives the face and figure of an absent friend, in order 
to draw his picture, he believes for the moment that his friend 
is before him." * That this belief sometimes exists, in cases 
of very vivid conception, I shall endeavor to show ; but that 
this is ordinarily the case, most men will be slow to believe. 
To draw the face and figure of an absent friend, is often the 
work of days ; during all the time in which the canvass is 
receiving the touches of the brush, the conception must be 
sustained. Does the painter, during all this time, believe 
that his friend is actually before him ? The exertion of the 
power of conception must attend every touch of his brush, 
and if this supposes the belief of the actual presence of its 
object, how many husbands and fathers would wish to learn 
the blessed art, and spend their lives in painting their 
departed wives and children! Conception may be suf- 
ficiently vivid for purposes of painting and describing, with- 
out rising to the point here supposed. Nothing is gained 
by pushing philosophy into the marvellous, or pressing a 
theory beyond the sober dictates of common experience. 



CASES OF SUPPOSED BELIEF ACCOUNTED FOR BY 
ASSOCIATION. 

A young man points a gun in sport at his sister. She 
knows her brother would not shoot her for the world ; per- 

* Stuart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 84, 



SENSATION. 157 

haps she even knows that the gun is not loaded. There 
can then be no belief, in any true sense of the term, that her 
brother is about to shoot her. Still, she screams out with 
terror. Having always associated the aiming of a gun with 
the work of death, it has of itself become terrific. A law 
of the nervous system explains this. It is said of a man 
who had submitted to a very painful operation on his teeth, 
that whenever he saw the surgeon's instrument, he felt the 
pain renewed. This was not because he believed the opera- 
tion again in progress ; it was clearly the effect of associa- 
tion on his nervous system. 



CASES OF REAL MOMENTARY BELIEF. 

But there are other cases which seem to imply actual 
belief. At an exhibition in a country village, some warrior 
Indians were personified. When the terrific personages 
leaped upon the stage, with their instruments of death, and 
approached the front with menacing attitude, several of the 
spectators near the stage leaped up, screamed with terror 
and rushed violently away ; some fainted. It became 
necessary to drop the curtain, to avert more serious conse- 
quences. Some of those individuals afterwards said, that 
at the moment referred to, they really thought those hideous 
characters veritable murderous Indians. They thought, as 
they expressed it, that they " were sent for." As soon as 
they had time to think, they knew better, but at the moment 
of excitement, their conceptions got the better of their 
knowledge. 

A little girl, who had lost her mother, was constantly 
reminded of her by a faithful portrait suspended against the 
wall. Into whatever part of the room the child went, the 
mother's eyes seemed to follow her. She could indulge in 
no forbidden acts, but those terrible eyes of rebuke were 
upon her. She at last watched the opportunity, when none 
were present, and with a knife scratched them out. She 
then felt again at liberty. There seems to be no doubt 
but that this child was troubled with such vivid conceptions, 
in regard to what was denoted by those pictured eyes, that 
14 



158 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

at times she really believed her mother was looking through 
them upon her. 

At an exhibition of jugglery, one of the feats to be per- 
formed was that of cutting off the head of a fowl, and then 
seeming to restore it to life. All of course knew it to be 
a farce ; but so dexterously was the trick performed, that 
at the moment the chicken flew up alive from the juggler's 
hand, a simple man near by sprang from his seat, exclaim- 
ing, " I would as lief have him cut off my head as not ; " 
and was about advancing to have the experiment tried upon 
him, when he came to his senses. Here, there seems to 
have been a real illusion, a momentary belief* 



VIEWS OF REID. 

Br. Reid professedly rejects the idea of -belief attending 
conceptions, and yet, in his explanations, virtually concedes 
all that I have claimed. " I knew a man," he says, "who 
was as much convinced, as any man, of the folly of the popu- 
lar belief of apparitions in the dark ; yet he could not sleep 
in the room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark. 
Can it be said, that his fear did not imply a belief of danger ? 
This is impossible. Yet his philosophy convinced him that 
he was in no more danger in the dark when alone, than with 
company. Here, an unreasonable belief, which was merely 
a prejudice of the nursery, stuck so fast as to govern his 
conduct, in opposition to his speculative belief as a philoso- 
pher and a man of sense." This admission can be recon- 
ciled with Reid's expressed disavowal of belief attending con- 
ceptions, only by supposing him to adopt the explanation of 
some, who say, not wide of the truth, that they " believe 
and don't believe at the same time." 

* The above examples belong to the third class of conceptions, noticed 
near the beginning of this chapter. All dramatic exhibitions, and others 
analogous to them, are designed to awaken vivid conceptions of absent or 



SENSATION. 159 



CONCEPTION ATTENDED WITH PERMANENT BELIEF. 

Not only does the illusion sometimes rise to momentary 
belief, but, in extraordinary instances, the belief has been 
rendered permanent. I am not now speaking of cases of 
insanity, which will fall under another head. Persons of 
sane intellect have had conceptions so vivid, as to assume, 
in their minds, the permanent character of realities. 

I have personal knowledge of the following fact. A well 
educated man, of the middle age, was deeply afflicted by 
the death of a lady whom he was expecting to marry. He 
stated that one night, as he was lying on his bed, thinking 
upon the lost object of affection, suddenly the room became 
light as noonday, and she stood by the side of him in full 
form, the same as before her death. She was dressed in 
white. She looked upon him with a smile, said she had 
come from the happy world to comfort him, and must soon 
return. She lifted her hands towards him, blessed him, 
and vanished ; the room was again dark as before. Now, 
we know all this to have been a mere conception ; the object 
of previous perceptions having been re-placed by highly 
excited feelings. But to this hour, the man in question 
believes it to have been a reality. He as sincerely believes 
that the room was actually illuminated, and that the form of 
his friend, attended with her departed spirit, did actually 
stand before him, as he believes any fact in history. Such 
cases differ from those of monomamanism, as a momentary 
illusion, resulting in permanent belief, differs from a perma- 
nent illusion. 

CONCEPTION GIVING LIFE TO INANIMATE OBJECTS. 

When a man strikes his foot against a stone, or comes in 
painful contact with any object in his way, his first impulse 
is often a feeling of resentment towards the object. Some- 
times he turns in rage to beat it. How shall we account 
for this ? By association ? But it seems an instantaneous 
impulse, and is most common in children, whose associations 
are less formed than those of adults. But if the man is not 



160 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

angry at the offending object, because he associates it with 
some living creature, against which he might be justly 
angry, must he not at the moment conceive of some actual 
blame in the object itself? The latter solution seems the 
most reasonable. Blame supposes, of course, life and capa- 
bility of punishment. " It seems impossible that there 
should be resentment against a thing, which, at that very 
moment, is considered as inanimate ; and consequently inca- 
pable either of intending harm or of being punished. There 
must, therefore, I conceive, be some momentary notion or 
conception, that the object of our resentment is capable of 
punishment." * 



FALSE CONCEPTION FROM IMPERFECT PERCEPTION. 

A false conception may precede or attend an imperfect 
view of its object. A man walking out on a moonlight 
evening, saw an object moving, as it seemed, just over the 
fence in the field. He approached the fence, and conceived 
it to be a woman, dressed in white, moving towards him. 
He was not a believer in ghosts, but, for the moment, his 
imagination mastered his philosophy. It was certainly a 
woman, or the ghost of a woman ; possibly the latter. He 
stopped ; the woman stopped also. He called ; no answer 
came. Possibly, it was a creature in distress, unable to 
speak ; so he summoned resolution to approach her, when 
he perceived her to be nothing but a white birch stump. 
The previous dimness of perception, aided by excited imagi- 
nation, gave rise to the false conception. 



FALSE CONCEPTION FROM EXCITED ANTICIPATION. 

Sometimes, when the anticipation of seeing an object is 
intensely excited, the presence of almost any thing awakens 
in the mind a conception of the object expected. This case 
differs from the preceding, in the fact, that here the illusion 

* Rcid's Philosophy, Vol. IL, p. 385. 



SENSATION. 161 

is owing to excited anticipation ; in the other, to defect of 
vision. The following fact is somewhere stated. A father 
and son were hunting a bear in a cornfield. The son passed 
round to start the animal through a path, but not finding it, 
was on his return through that path, when his father shot 
him dead for the animal. The open path gave the father 
opportunity for a fair view, but so filled was his mind with 
anticipations of the bear, that he could see nothing else. 
Men are often duped by false conceptions, arising from 
over-ardent anticipations. 



PROTRACTED FALSE CONCEPTION. 

When dimness of vision is joined with wakeful and ex- 
pectant imagination, the illusions of conception are still 
stronger and more lasting. It is then no difficult task to 
people the world, for hours together, with all kinds of our 
own creations. The eye must needs see something, enough 
to awaken imagination ; leaving as much as possible to be 
conceived. Or, if we wish in a measure to bridle imagina- 
tion, and confine the conception to a particular object, the 
representation of that object should be made as distinctly 
as possible, and all attending circumstances thrown into ob- 
scurity ; — since, if what precedes, attends, and follows, is 
kept in view, it will dispel the illusion. 

It is on this principle, that scenic exhibitions are gotten 
up. The surrounding world is shut out; artificial lights 
put a new aspect upon things ; imagination is roused ; music 
beguiles the soul, and leads it captive ; well arranged lights 
and shades of the painted canvas, open to the eye a long 
distance of fairy scenes ; and when the mind has thus been, 
as much as possible, cut off from all connection with the 
actual past and present, a brilliant picture, or representation 
of the object to be conceived, is ushered in before it. At 
such times, many a grave philosopher has lost his wisdom, 
and been carried away captive by the illusions of imagina- 
tion. He has conceived and felt, as actual realities, the 
scenes of distress, of terror, of breathless anxiety, of gush- 
14* 



162 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ing joy, represented before him. He has wept with sorrow ; 
he has shuddered with fear ; he has held his breath with 
suspense ; he has burst into raptures of joy ; he has thus 
given the strongest evidence of a conceived reality at work 
on his soul. 

USES OF CONCEPTION. 

What has been already said, indicates the importance of 
this faculty in its relations to descriptive writing, poetry, 
history, painting, and scenic exhibitions. It also enters into 
the more profound and grave mental operations. We cannot 
analyze a subject, we cannot reason upon it, we can exercise 
no sound judgment upon it, until we have fairly conceived it. 
The advocate at the bar, the preacher in the pulpit, the 
statesman on the forum, are all, with the historian and the 
poet, equally dependent on this faculty. It is a clear and 
full conception of the subject, more than perhaps any thing 
else, that gives brilliancy to description and poetry, force to 
argument, soundness to judgment, and power to eloquence. 
As conception is nearly allied to imagination, and by some 
identified with it, other remarks, respecting its importance, 
will be made in connection with the last mentioned faculty, — 
especially those which respect its relations to Christianity. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIII. 

What point have we now reached 1 What is conception ? Illustration ? 
To what else is the term conception applied ? What does Stewart say ? 
To what else is the same term applied ? Is there a distinction between 
conception and memory ? Explain it. Also the distinction between con- 
ception and imagination. What is said of vividness of conceptions 1 Of 
what things do we have the most vivid conceptions ? Illustration 1 What 
is said of the influence of association? Of objects of taste, smell, &c. ? 
What is said of the influence of attention on our conceptions ? Illustra- 
tions ? What is said of musical sounds ? How is this accounted for, Jirst, 
—secondly — thirdly —fourthly ? Are our conceptions susceptible of im- 



QUESTIONS. 163 

provement ? Examples ? What is said of improvement of conceptions 
of musical sounds 1 What is said of the subserviency of conception to 
description 1 Eeasons ? State the facts in proof. Is conception attended 
with belief of the existence and presence of its object % State the views 
of Stewart. State what is said in reply. How are some cases of supposed 
belief accounted for 1 Give the illustrations. Are there cases of unques- 
tionable belief? State those given. Give the views of Reid. Are con- 
ceptions ever attended with permanent belief ? Give the example. State 
the instance of conception giving life to inanimate objects. How is this 
accounted for ? State the example of false conception from imperfect 
perception. Give the illustration of false conceptions arising from ex- 
cited anticipation. What is said of protracted false conceptions ? Of 
scenic exhibitions ? Of the uses of conception ? 



CHAPTER XIV 



OUR PRIMARY RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE. 

It has been stated that our primary knowledge is of 
two kinds, sensuous and rational. The former, we have 
briefly considered. We began with the former, because our 
first knowledge is from this source. Man starts at the lowest 
point ; he learns his humblest lessons first. He is put to 
school in the flesh, through its humble instrumentality to 
learn the alphabet of that great volume, which is to unfold 
to him its bright pages, long after the body shall have re- 
turned " to the dust as it was." 



OUR FIRST KNOWLEDGE. 

At what period the mind begins to have any other knowl- 
edge than that of a sensuous origin, it is impossible to tell. 
Sensuous knowledge is certainly the first. Various sensa- 
tions of touch, of heat and cold, of pleasure and pain, fall 
early to the infant's lot. How much the mind learns from 
these and other sensations, at this early period, none can 
tell us. " One of the first natural sensations it has, " subse- 
quent to birth, " upon which sensational phenomena can be 
predicated, is that of hunger. Of this it must be conscious. 
The sensation and consciousness of it, co-existing, constitute 
its first experience. Whatever may bo the diversity in 
human character, in this, their beginning experience, they 
are alike. When the child nurses, combinations begin with 
the outward world, and the blending of the mother's milk 
with the gastric juice, produces the first sensation of hunger 
gratified; and this is its second experience. Here, children 



CONCEPTION. 165 

begin to differ from each other, in the ratio of their different 
digestive sensations ; and the diversity of character begins. 
The child now remains nearly stationary, till repeated ex- 
periences, within very narrow limits of gratified hunger, enable 
it to associate; then mental combinations begin to grow 
rapidly, and memory combines itself with association, and 
their mutual inter-action excites the imagination, and the 
will to enjoy springs into being. The action and inter-action 
of these attributes of sensation upon each other, constitute 
the whole range of the infant's mind." * 

Of the early ideas obtained by sensation, it is only by 
cries, and smiles, and glances of the opening eye, that the 
little stranger can ever speak to us ; for as yet he has no 
other language ; — as to the future child, all is blotted from 
the records of memory. We w T atch, however, in that kind- 
ling countenance, and those significant movements, evident 
tokens of growing intellect ; and long before language gives 
us a free exchange of thought, he is found to have made con- 
siderable progress, not only in that knowledge which comes 
through the senses, but that which springs directly from the 
mind. In respect to the former, however, he is far in ad- 
vance of what he is in respect to the latter. 



OUR INQUIRY CONFINED TO STRICT KNOWLEDGE. 

It should be observed, that our inquiry is here restricted 
to actual knoivledge of facts. It has been shown, that what 
we learn directly, by the senses, is of this description. What 
we feel, see, hear, taste, &c, we know. The sensations which 
they produce, we know by consciousness ; the things them- 
selves, by direct perception, without any process of ratiocina- 
tion ; — without any proof whatever, except what our own 
senses furnish. 

Now, we have other sources of knowledge, as direct and 
certain as these, not outward in the flesh, but inward in the 
pure mind. Here, as in the preceding case, no reasoning 
process is demanded, no proof wanted, but such as is imme- 

* Laws of Causation, pp. 144, 145. 



166 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

diately furnished by the mind itself . This point should be 
clearly settled ; for many have stumbled here. Distin- 
guished intellects, in other respects wise, by laboring to 
prove what was never designed to be proved, and therefore 
cannot be proved — the proof being in itself — have only 
" darkened counsel by words without wisdom," rendering 
obscure what the Creator has made plain. 



DIVERSITY OF VIEWS ON THIS POINT. 

At no other point, in the whole range of mental science, 
have philosophers diverged so widely as at this. Here, as 
we have seen, is the grand point of difference between the 
two great schools. Before John Locke wrote his famous 
Essay on the Human Understanding, the prevailing conti- 
nental philosophy gave the widest possible range to the in- 
ternal or rational sources of knowledge, maintaining that the 
mind is created with a fund of dormant ideas, wrapped up in 
it, which the senses serve only to wake up ; that all external 
nature is but the semblance or counterpart of ideas already 
in the mind, and therefore incompetent to teach it. This 
method of philosophizing, descending from the ancient Pla- 
tonic school, originated in a lofty desire to exalt spirit over 
matter, and restore to the soul the dominion and glory to 
which it is entitled. The design was worthy of the great 
minds which conceived it ; — the fault lay only in the means 
which they took to accomplish it. It was in the infancy of 
philosophy, that such imposing theories were framed ; — and 
when imposing theories, sanctioned by great names, have, 
from an early period, deeply imbedded themselves in modes 
of thinking, it is the work of ages to root them out. 

Moreover, there was something of truth in these theories. 
Unmixed error cannot long survive. Great errors are 
palmed upon the world, by virtue of the truths involved ivith 
them; and when hoary headed association has identified 
error with truth, it requires a bold original mind, with un- 
common powers of discrimination, to enter successfully upon 
the hazardous task of effecting a divorce. There is always, 
in such cases, danger of going too far, and Removing truth 



CONCEPTION. 167 

with error. Whether Locke actually did so, in reducing 
the origin of all our knowledge to sensation and reflection, 
philosophers are not agreed to this day. But one thing is 
certain ; — some of his professed disciples have vibrated 
widely to the opposite extreme of the errors which he 
assailed, and have pressed his doctrine to the most absurd 
and dangerous speculations. 



MATERIALISM. 

Some philosophers of the French school, especially, have 
carried the sensuous theory into all the extravagant and re- 
volting forms of materialism. They have conceived all the 
interior workings of the mind to be nothing more than 
" transformed sensations." " If we consider," says Condil- 
lac, " that to remember, to compare, to judge, to distinguish, 
to imagine, to be astonished, to have abstract ideas of num- 
ber and duration, to know truths, whether general or parti- 
cular, are but so many modes of being attentive ; that to 
have passions, to love, to hate, to fear, to will, are but so 
many different modes of desire ; and that attention, in the 
one case, and desire, in the other, of which all these feelings 
are modes, are themselves, in their origin, nothing more than 
modes of sensation, we cannot but conclude, that sensation 
involves in itself [envelope] all the faculties of the soul." 
Dr. Thomas Brown remarks, " This system, by the univer- 
sality of transmutation supposed in it, truly deserves the 
name of intellectual alchymy ; " — and he justly adds, " The 
doctrine, then, as exhibited by Condillac and his followers, 
whatever merit it may have in itself, or however void it may 
be of merit of any kind, is not the doctrine of him [Locke] 
from whom it is said to be derived." * 



* Brown's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 329. 



168 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



TRANSCENDENTALISM. 

In their attempts to rescue the mind from the grasp of a 
debasing materialism, others have leaned strongly backward 
towards the Platonic theory, and ascribed to man larger 
sources of knowledge, independently of the senses, than 
truth allows. They are of every grade, from the more free 
pupils of the primitive school, to the more cautious disciples 
of the Kantian system, and the yet more modern and mys- 
tical forms of the Coleridgian philosophy. Here, then, we 
have the modern extremes, materialism on the one hand, 
and transcendentalism on the other. Which is the more 
dangerous, we should not be slow to decide: — if we must 
have either, give us the enchanting dreams of transcendent- 
alism, rather than the intellectual alchymy of materialism. 
But let us seek for truth, and truth only. 



CLASSIFICATION OF THE MENTAL POWERS. 

We are never to forget that our classifications of mental 
phenomena, are but the application of names to cover groups 
of similar ideas ; that these groups may be more or less ex- 
tended, to suit our convenience ; and that, consequently, 
our classifications are more or less arbitrary. This should 
make us indulgent towards those from whom we are, in this 
matter, constrained to differ. Still, it is of great importance 
to accuracy of mental science, that the terms we employ sig- 
nificantly represent the precise ideas intended. In defining 
and arranging classes, the severest exactness should be ob- 
served. These remarks are especially applicable to the 
point before us. 

BROWN'S CLASSIFICATION. 

Stripped of its gorgeous drapery, the philosophy of Thomas 
Brown presents the varying phases of the human mind in a 
light exceedingly simple. Indeed, his fondness for simpli- 
fication seems to have been a passion. He calls Reid, 



CONCEPTION. 169 

Stewart, and others, to account, for too much increasing the 
classes of mental phenomena. " The philosophy of Dr. 
Reid," he says, " and in general, of the metaphysicians of 
this part of the island, has had the opposite tendency, — to 
enlarge, as I conceive, far beyond what was necessary, the 
number of classes which they considered as too limited be- 
fore ; — and in proportion, more regard has perhaps been 
paid to the differences, or supposed differences, of phenome- 
na, than to their resemblances." This philosopher carries 
his simplifying process so far as to refer all the intellectual 
states of the mind to u tivo generic susceptibilities, — those 
of Simple Suggestion, and Relative Suggestion" And 
much of his labor is eloquently employed, in tracing connec- 
tions between the various mental states, usually arranged 
under separate heads, to these two generic susceptibilities. 
But the fact, that he is constrained to adopt much of the 
usual nomenclature, and acknowledges its convenience, is 
evidence that, after all, the writers whom he arraigns were 
not so much out of the way. However this may be, subse- 
quent writers have generally maintained nearly the same 
classification that had obtained before Brown's Philosophy 
appeared. But his theory of suggestion has found some 
favor, especially as applied to the sources of primary 
knowledge. 

upham's original suggestion. 

Adopting a part of Brown's theory of suggestion, Prof. 
Upham says, " Some of the cases of thought and knowledge, 
which the mind becomes possessed of in itself, without the 
direct aid of the senses, are to be ascribed to suggestion. 
This word, in its application here, is used merely to express 
a simple but important fact, viz., that the mind, by its own 
activity and vigor, gives rise to certain thoughts. Without 
any mixture of hypothesis, or any qualifying intimation 
whatever, it gives the fact, and that is all." He proceeds 
to refer to this source a large list of ideas, — such as ideas 
of existence, mind, personal identity, unity, succession, dura- 
tion ; space, power, right and wrong, and many others, of 
which, he says, " it might not be easy to make a complete 
15 



170 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

enumeration," — but he thinks that moreover, " we may 
probably ascribe the ideas of truth, freedom, design, or intel- 
ligence, necessity, fitness, or congruity, reality, order, plu- 
rality, totality, immensity, possibility, infinity, happiness, 
reward, punishment, and perhaps many others, to this 



OBJECTIONS TO THE ABOVE VIEW. 

The writer above is professedly inquiring after "the origin 
of knowledge" and says, that " the soul has fountains of 
knowledge within ; " and one of these fountains he makes 
" Original Suggestion." f Two questions arise here, — 
first, Whether much that he ascribes to suggestion, is not 
referable to other sources f It is believed the result will 
show that it is. Letting this pass for the present, a more 
important question is, Whether suggestion is tantamount to 
knowledge f A suggestion is a mere idea, and, as Locke 
says, " our knowledge is narroiver than our ideas" The 
term suggestion signifies hint, intimation, insinuation ; the 
power of suggestion, then, is the power to hint or intimate 
something that is, or may be. Under certain impulses, the 
mind may suggest absurdities and falsehoods, and may sup- 
pose them to be truths. Although the term be restricted to 
suggestions purely original, it is still open to this objec- 
tion. $ 

But it is not wise to contend about the meaning of a term. 
Authors have the right to define their terms ; and if they 
abide by their definitions, we have no right to complain. In 
the present instance, the term, itself vague, is defined in the 

* Upham's Philosophy, p. 130. f Upham's Philosophy, p. 120. 

J Prof. Upham places original suggestion by the side of consciousness, 
making them equally grounds of the highest kind of belief. " Conscious- 
ness," it may be remarked here, " is to be regarded as a ground or law of 
belief; and the belief attendant on the exercise of it, like that which ac- 
companies the exercise of original suggestion, is of the highest kind. " 
Philosophy, p. 138. According to this, we are to regard what is merely 
suggested to us, by that power which he calls original suggestion, as equal- 
ly certain with what we learn by consciousness, that is, by our actual ex- 
perience. It is believed that the reasons for dissent from this position, 
are made sufficiently obvious. 



CONCEPTION. 171 

vaguest sense. The stern inquirer after the origin of knowl- 
edge, not of mere hints or conjectures, is unsatisfied. When 
told that " the mind has fountains of knowledge within,' ' 
and that " by its own activity and vigor "— as the process 
of furnishing knowledge by suggestion is explained — it gives 
rise to the ideas of succession, truth, freedom, happiness, 
punishment, &c, he can see no sufficient reasons, why it 
may not as well be said, " by its own activity and vigor," to 
give rise to all its knowledge. 

I am now speaking of that knowledge which the mind has 
without any second step. Spontaneous suggestion may give 
us ideas, but they are not knowledge. A higher tribunal 
must be awaited, before what is merely suggested becomes 
actually known. A second step, another mental act, besides 
suggestion, must be resorted to, before what is suggested 
becomes knowledge ; I cannot, therefore, place suggestion 
among the " fountains of knowledge within," or what I term 



THE RATIONAL POWERS OF PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 

I shall speak of those powers by which the mind obtains 
its primary knowledge, independently of the senses, under 
two heads — Intuition and Consciousness. Although 
writers, entitled to high regard, have placed suggestion in 
this number, for reasons above given, it is here excluded. 
Although suggestions of all kinds have an important agency 
here, as elsewhere, in furthering mental acquisitions, yet the 
mind's suggestive power is not an infallible teacher of knowl- 
edge. To allow it a place here, is really opening the door 
to all the vagaries of German transcendentalism. How 
much do we gain towards defining the mental powers and 
limiting their range, towards restraining their vagaries and 
holding them to exact truth, by fighting the battles against 
the doctrine of innate ideas, if, after all, we allow a power 
of original suggestion, which can give us ideas without num- 
ber, and those ideas are to be taken for knowledge ? 

The importance of this point may not at first be obvious to 
all, and some may think less might better be said upon it. 
But looseness here essentially aifects all subsequent inquiries 



172 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

in philosophy, and sends its disastrous effects onward to our 
views in religion. Reliance on suggestions, or inspirations 
within, to the neglect of a higher authority without, has 
ever tended to flood the world with infidelity. 

It is believed that to these two mental powers, Intuition 
and Consciousness, may be referred all the real knowledge 
now under consideration, to which the human mind can lay 
claim. They will be considered in the next chapter. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIV. 

What is said at the opening of this chapter ? Which knowledge do we 
have first, sensuous or rational ? What is said on this point ? Of the early 
ideas obtained by sensation ? What progress is the child found to have 
made before he can speak to us ? To what is the inquiry here restricted 1 ? 
What is said on this point ? What of other sources of knowledge ? Rea- 
sons assigned why this point should be clearly understood ? What is said 
of diversity of views on this point ? What is said of the prevailing phi- 
losophy before Locke ? Remarks % Was there any truth in these theories ? 
How does this appear 1 What is said of some of Locke's disciples f Of 
the French school'? Condillac ? Brown's reply 1 Of transcendentalism % 
What are the two extremes ? Which would the reader prefer, if he must 
have either % What is said of classification of the mental powers ? 
What of Brown's classification 1 How far does he carry his simplifying 
process ? What have subsequent writers generally maintained I What 
is said of Upham's original suggestion 1 What is the first question that 
arises here 1 What is a more important question 1 Remarks on this sub- 
ject 1 What are the rational powers of primary knowledge ? What ob- 
jections to considering the mind's suggestive power an infallible teacher 
of knowledge ? What importance attaches to this point ? To what may 
all our primary rational knowledge be referred ? 



CHAPTER XV, 



INTUITION. 



Intuition implies immediate mental perception. Some 
things are known without any proving, their proof being in 
themselves. They only require to be stated, to be known. 
Intuition is the power of knowing these things. It may 
therefore be defined, that power by which the mind infalli- 
bly perceives, without any admonition of the senses, and 
without any process of reasoning. It suggests nothing ; — 
its office is higher, to know. It does this, and nothing 
more. It goes not from home ; it never commutes its 
office ; but remains eternally in the same position — the 
mental eye ever open, piercing, sure. We are therefore 
justified in considering it, the power of immediately know- 
ing whatever falls within its sphere. 



REASONS FOR USING THE TERM INTUITION. 

As the term intuition has been generally used in relation 
to matters of proof, and especially in connection with mathe- 
matical demonstrations, reasons may be demanded for using 
it here.* The term being generic, it respects knowledge in 
general. Logicians and mathematicians have made a 

* Intuition is nearly synonymous with reason, as the latter term is 
used in the metaphysical school. The distinction made by German phi- 
losophers between reason and understanding, is in many respects the same 
as that made by the Scotch and English, between intuition and the reason~ 
ing or discursive faculties. The former allow, however, a much wider 
field to reason, than the latter do to intuition. 

15* 



174 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

specific use of it. Still, the term may properly be used in 
its original and generic sense. It expresses what needs to 
be here expressed, and what no other term expresses so 
exactly. Let us see : — suppose we take suggestion, — the 
term sometimes used to denote mental phenomena, some of 
which we call intuitions. The mind suggests something : — 
that something is true, or false, or doubtful. Suppose it 
false. 

It may be said, that to know a falsehood, is real knowl- 
edge, as well as to know a truth. So be it. But then the 
mind does not yet know that it is a falsehood. The man is 
conscious of having a suggestion or conjecture in his mind 
respecting the thing in question, but no knoivledge.* Nor, 
until some other power than that of mere suggestion is 
brought to bear, can he be said to have any knowledge 
respecting it. That other power needed, is intuition. The 
thing suggested is intuitively perceived to be either true or 
false. If perceived to be true, the mind has thus obtained 
the knowledge of a truth; if seen to be false, the knowledge 
of a falsehood. 

If it be said, that a mere conjecture, doubt, query, rising 
in the mind as such ; or a mere suggestion, indicating some- 
thing not yet certainly known, as either true or false, real 
or unreal, — is all that is meant by the knowledge in ques- 
tion, — it is only necessary for me to say, that this is not 
what I understand, and intend to designate, by primary 
knowledge. The term here is always meant to indicate an 
entity known — known as a truth, a falsehood, an absurdity, 
a reality, a conjecture, or whatever it is. And for this 
knowledge, in the present case,f we fall back on intuition. 
_ As explicitness is very important here, the following par- 
ticulars should be noticed. 

1. Although the power of intuition, like all others, is 

* If we adopt the mode of designating mental phenomena favored by 
Brown, we should say, the man is conscious of having his mind in a state 
oj conjecture, not in a state of knowledge, respecting the thing in question. 
He considers ideas mere states of mind, and not any thing distinct from 
the mind itself. J b 

tl say, in the present case, because, in numerous other cases, suggest- 
ion puts the mind on the track to knowledge obtained by a irocess of 
reasoning. It is a handmaid to knowledge of all kinds 



INTUITION. 175 

gradually developed, yet there are no degrees of assurance 
in its decision. The intuitions of the child, so far as they 
go, are precisely the same as those of the adult. Years 
of study and thought cannot change or modify them. The 
child and the adult, the untaught and the philosopher, are 
herein alike ; so far as their intuitions reach, their knowl- 
edge is equally certain. 

2. All intuitive, as well as all sensuous knowledge, is 
acquired. The mind has no more knowledge of intuitive 
truths than it has of any others, until intuition has been 
exercised upon them. There is a susceptibility to them, 
requiring only that they be suggested, or in some way 
brought before the mind, to be at once recognized as truths. 
This is what D'Alembert meant by the remark, that " all 
intuitive knowledge is but the mind's recognition of what it 
previously knew." To the same intent, we sometimes 
hear a person say, when a self-evident truth is suggested to 
him, " I knew that before, but never before thought of it." 
In strict truth, he did not know it before ; for a man cannot 
be said to know what was never in his thoughts ; but he 
only needed to think of it to know it. To know a thing by 
only thinking of it, is intuition. 

3. Intuitive truths admit of no proof. They are above 
all proof; their witness being in themselves. Any thing 
that can be proved, is not a subject of pure intuition. All at- 
tempts to prove intuitive truths are but a begging of the ques- 
tion, or a running round in a circle. Some have supposed, for 
example, the existence of God an intuitive truth ; but if it 
is demonstrable by a process of reasoning, it ceases to be 
strictly intuitive. Although the chain of argument have 
but two or three links, something more than intuition is de- 
manded. 

4. The teachings of intuition are irresistible. They 
take the mind by force. Every man must believe what it 
teaches him. Any thing that a man can willingly avoid 
knowing, is not a subject of intuition ; for willingly to avoid 
knowing a thing, implies that he has thought of it ; and 
whatever intuitive truth he has thought of, he already 
knows. Suppose, for instance, a man undertake to be igno- 
rant of the truth, that there is a moral distinction between 



176 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

right and wrong. His undertaking to be ignorant of it, 
implies that it is in his thoughts ; and its being in his 
thoughts, makes him already know it. He has only to think 
of it, and he irresistibly knows it. 

5. Subjects of intuition being facts, which cannot be 
proved, philosophy has only to define them, leaving their 
proof with every individual. What every man knows by 
only thinking of it, needs only to be stated. Volumes have 
been written, essaying to prove intuitive truths ; which have 
served no other purpose than to show the folly of attempting 
to do what the Creator has already done for us. 

But great care must be exercised on this point, not to 
admit as intuitive any thing not strictly so. Intuitive 
knowledge is quite limited, but of the highest importance. 
Its great value is in the fact, that it is one of the essential 
elements in all mental acquisitions. 



1. MATHEMATICAL AXIOMS. 

All mathematical axioms, strictly so called, are subjects 
of intuitive knowledge. They cannot be proved, for they 
are proved already, as soon as they are stated. To know 
them, is to prove them. So soon, for example, as a child is 
mature enough to understand you, if you say to him, The 
whole of any thing is more than any one of its parts, — he 
intuitively perceives it to be so. Or if you say, The half of 
any thing is equal to the whole of it, — he intuitively perceives 
it not to be so. The falseness of the one statement and 
the truth of the other, require no proof. Could you prove 
them a thousand times, you could not make them more cer- 
tain to his mind. But you cannot prove them. In attempt- 
ing to do so, you must assume as proved what remains to be 
proved ; you must indeed beg at every step. It is only by 
availing ourselves of the knowledge furnished by intuition, 
that we can demonstrate the simplest proposition ; for every 
result is dependent on a chain of demonstration, more or 
less extended, every link of which is an intuition. It is 
intuition that holds the several parts of the demonstration 
together, by perceiving their fitness and relations. The 



INTUITION. 177 

number of mathematical axioms may be more or less ex- 
tended, but a list of them does not belong to this place. 
The reader is referred to mathematical works. 



II. MORAL AXIOMS. 

There are self-evident truths in moral science, as truly as 
in mathematical. Moral axioms may not be clearly under- 
stood at so early a period as mathematical, but when they 
are understood, the mind embraces them with the same 
assurance. Coleridge makes this distinction between mathe- 
matical and moral axioms, that the former are what every 
mind must believe, the latter what every good mind will 
believe. The apparent reason for the distinction is in the 
fact, that through moral obliquity men are often more ready 
to do violence to their moral than to their mathematical 
intuitions. Men may make themselves fools, if they will, 
on every subject. All our powers of rational, as well as of 
sensuous knowledge, may be outraged and destroyed. 
When philosophy speaks of the mental powers, she has 
respect to their legitimate use. 



ILLUSTRATION. 

When a mathematical axiom is first clearly apprehended 
by a person, he knows it to be true. He may afterwards 
speculate upon it, and through a desire to be original or 
obstinate, finally prevail upon himself to think otherwise. 
There is, however, still a conviction at the bottom of his 
mind, that he is not true to himself; in fact, he really knows 
better. But as the motives to such folly, in relation to 
mathematical truths, are comparatively few, such instances 
of folly are proportionably rare, — although not wholly 
wanting. So, when a person first clearly apprehends a 
moral axiom, he instantly knows it to be true. But through 
moral obliquity, his feelings, his wishes, may be against it. 



178 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

He may thus be induced to speculate, cavil, resist, and 
finally prevail with himself to think otherwise. But he is 
not without conviction of being false to himself. It is not 
for us to decide how far a man may carry this desperate 
warfare against his own intuitions, but we can hardly im- 
agine a case, where it may not be said, After all he really 
knows better. If he have come to the strange pass, that he 
really does not perceive any moral distinctions in conduct, 
that a lie is to him morally the same as a truth, he certainly 
did know better once. However much of a fool he may 
have made himself, intuition has done its duty. 



SOME MORAL AXIOMS SPECIFIED. 

A full account of this class of axioms belongs to moral 
philosophy, but for the sake of being understood, let us 
notice a few of them. They may be expressed in such pro- 
positions as these : — Let the reader ponder a moment on 
each, and see if something within does not testify to its 
truth. There is a moral distinction between right and 
wrong. — We ought to love what is good, and hate what is 
evil. — It is just, that they who do good and they who do evil, 
be rewarded according to their respective doings. — If God is 
infinitely good, we ought to love him supremely. — We should 
endeavor to promote the welfare and not the ruin of our 
fellow beings. — There is a moral difference between truth 
and falsehood. — We ought to be grateful for favors. We 
might enlarge the list, but these examples will suffice. 

All effectual moral reasoners assume such truths. If 
men undertake to prove them, they only weaken what is at 
first strong. In taking into their own hands the work which 
the Creator has already done, they show, by their bungling, 
how much better his work is than theirs. The most con- 
vincing and powerful reasoners in morals are they, who 
assume all such facts as admitted, throw them directly upon 
the understanding and conscience of those addressed, and 
go straight forth to frame and apply their argument. This 



INTUITION. 179 

shows that such facts are admitted, and that no proof of 
them is needed ; in other words, that thej are subjects of 
intuition* 



METAPHYSICAL AXIOMS. 

This is a convenient term to apply to a class of specula- 
tive axioms, which are neither strictly mathematical nor 
moral. They are such as these : It is impossible for the 
same thing to be and not to be, at the same time. — What- 
ever is not eternal, must have had a beginning. — Every 
effect must have a cause. — The same thing cannot be both 
cause and effect in the same relation, at the same time. — 
There cannot be a cause without an effect. — An effect can 
never precede its cause. — A body cannot go from one point 
to another, without passing through the intermediate space. — 
The work of creation supposes Omnipotent power. — Omnipo- 
tence itself cannot do impossibilities — such as, to make a 
thing to be and not to be, at the same time ; to make three 
and two equal to ten, &c. 



REMARKS ON INTUITIVE PROPOSITIONS. 

Such propositions may seem at first puerile and useless. 
But no sooner does one undertake to reason, than he finds 
the necessity of having such first truths, universally known 
and conceded, on which he can fall back and rest firmly. 
He cannot prove them, for he has nothing to prove them 
with. He takes them as already proved by intuition, for 
materials with which to prove those things which require 
proof by argument. They are not ordinarily drawn out into 
verbal propositions : all minds entertain such truths almost 
unconsciously, so that they can be reasoned upon without 

* The disciples of the metaphysical school have often had the advan- 
tage of those of the sensuous school, in this respect. The cautious phi- 
losophy of the latter, inclining them to prove every thing, has not unfre- 
quently led them to attempt the proof of self-evident truths, and thus 
to induce a spirit of scepticism. 



180 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

being stated. It is when something is said in opposition to 
them, rather than in reliance upon them, that the mind is 
roused to think of them. An intuitive truth, like the atmos- 
phere in which the body lives, is seldom noticed except 
when disturbed. 

Although some of the propositions involving intuitive 
truths are little else than truisms, or statements of the same 
thing in different words, they yet express a reality, and one 
for which no other mode of expression can be framed. The 
simplest things are often the most difficult to define. It is 
also due to the reader to say, that some of the generally 
received axioms have been debated. For instance, the pro- 
position, That every effect must have a cause, has been by 
some said to be nothing more than the mere statement of 
the fact, that so far as human observation extends, certain 
things have been uniformly preceded by certain other 
things ; * while again it is claimed by some, that every 
human mind spontaneously prompts the belief, that neither 
ourselves nor anything around us could have come into 
existence without a cause. In reply to all this, it is not 
material to decide precisely how much observation and 
intuition severally do, in furnishing us with the elements of 
knowledge, so long as we are all equally agreed as to the 
knowledge itself. Although philosophers are not agreed as 
to the relation of cause and effect, and one thinks that his 
knowledge of it came by intuition, and another that his 
came by observation, yet if they are equally sure that they 
have this knowledge, and reason together soundly upon it, 
each may safely be left to his own speculations. 

Having stated some of the intuitive propositions, of the 
several classes, let us notice some intuitive facts, expressed 
by a single term. Among these may be mentioned, 

1. Existence. That there is something which we call 
being or existence, and that himself exists, every man knows 
by intuition. Existence cannot be proved ; for, in order to 
prove, there must be a mind, and materials for the mind to 
work with. Unless these be allowed to exist, there can of 
course be no proving. The man who maintains that there 

* Brown's Philosophy. 



INTUITION. 181 

is no existence, annihilates the universe and himself with it. 
As he no longer exists, he cannot of course maintain any 
thing. On the other hand, the man who undertakes to 
prove that there is such a thing as existence, must beg his 
position and assume his existence, before he can prove it. 
Hence the attempt of Des Cartes and others, to prove exist- 
ence, could add nothing to the convictions which all mankind 
had by their own intuition. Had men consented to abandon 
their ground of belief furnished by intuition, and to depend 
upon that furnished by argument, most would have proba- 
bly fallen, with Hume, into universal scepticism. 

Some have supposed that existence is made known to us 
through the senses. The senses make known to us certain 
effects of existence, but for the knowledge of existence itself, 
we are indebted to intuition. These effects are intuitively 
referred to their cause. Others have said that our existence 
is made known to us by consciousness.* To this it is by 
some replied, that oar thoughts, feelings, volitions — the 
effects of our existence — we know by consciousness, but of 
our existence itself we are not strictly conscious. I am 
quite willing to leave this point with the reader to settle for 
himself, — whether it is by intuition or consciousness, or 
both, that he knows his own existence. Others refer the 
knowledge of our existence to suggestion. Prof. Upham 
does this, but in his explanation really makes it a matter 
of intuitive reference of effect to cause. " If we think, 
then there is something which has this capability of thought ; 
if we feel, then there is not only the mere act of feeling, 
but something also which puts forth the act." f If any say, 
our existence is thus suggested to us, it is only necessary to 
add, intuition does more, it makes us know it. 

2. Space. The question here is not in respect to the na- 
ture of space, whether it is material or immaterial, whether it 
is real substance or the absence of all substance, whether it is 
independent of God or dependent upon him ; the question 
is, how do we come by the knowledge of that, whatever 
it be, which ive call space? All men perceive at once, that 
space is so essentially different from body, that our knowl- 

* See Brown on Metaphysical and Ethical Science 
t Mental Philosophy, p. 124. 

16 



182 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

edge of it would not naturally be referred to a sensuous 
origin. Space is absolute and necessary, body may or may 
not exist ; space is illimitable, all body has limits ; the idea 
of space is strictly rational, that of body is accompanied 
•with a sensible representation. 

Respecting the origin of our idea of space, Cousin has the 
following just remarks. " Here we have carefully distin- 
guished two points of views, which are intimately blended 
together, but which analysis should separate, namely, the 
logical order of ideas, and their chronological order. In the 
logical view, body pre-supposes space ; for what is body ? 
The juxta-position, the co-existence of resisting points, that 
is, of solids. But how could this juxta-position, this co- 
existence, happen, but in a continuity of space ? But 
while, in the order of reason and of nature, body pre- 
supposes space, it is true, on the other hand, that, in the 
chronological order, there is a contemporaneousness of the 
idea of body and that of space ; we cannot have the idea of 
body without that of space, nor of space without that of 
body. And if, in this contemporaneous process, one of 
these ideas may be distinguished as the antecedent, in the 
order of time, of the other, it is not the idea of space which 
is anterior to that of body ; it is the idea of body which is 
anterior to that of space. It is not from the idea of space 
that we start ; and if the sensibility, if the touch, did not 
take the initiative, and give us, immediately, the idea of 
resistance, of solid, of body, we should never have the idea 
of space. Without doubt the idea of body could never be 
found and completed in the mind, if we had not already 
there the idea of space ; but still, the former idea springs 
up first in time ; it precedes in some degree the idea of 
space, which immediately follows it." * The amount of it 
all is, that while we come at the knowledge of body by the 
senses, we intuitively perceived that body cannot exist without 
space to exist in. 

3. Identity. Identity implies sameness of being. A man 
of fifty is the same being to-day that he was forty years 
ago. No man ever doubts this. The belief of identity is 

* See Cousin's Psychology, by Dr. Henry, p. 95. 



INTUITION. 183 

universal. It is more than belief; it is knowledge. Whence 
the origin of this knowledge ? In the first place, it cannot 
evidently be given us directly by the senses. These furnish 
evidence of only present physical facts. Identity respects 
the past as well as present. Here then is work for mem- 
ory. But memory alone cannot impart the knowledge of 
identity ; it only recalls past experiences and events. It is 
not its office to decide, whether it is the same being who 
experiences certain feelings to-day, who experienced certain 
feelings ten years ago. Nor, in the second place, can con- 
sciousness alone give us the knowledge in question. Con- 
sciousness is concerned only with present experiences. And 
yet, without memory and consciousness, there can be no 
knowledge of identity. Here Locke fails to discover his 
wonted clearness. " Since consciousness," he says, " always 
accompanies thinking, and it is that which makes every one 
to be what he calls self, and thereby distinguishes himself 
from all other thinking things ; in this alone consists per- 
sonal identity, i. e., the sameness of a rational being ; and, 
as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards to 
any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that 
person ; it is the same self, now, it was then ; and it is by 
the same self with this present one that now reflects on it, 
that that action was done." * Here is a confounding 
of consciousness with identity. If consciousness makes 
identity, then a man loses his identity, — is no longer the same 
man, — the moment he ceases to be conscious. Locke could 
not have meant to say this. If he meant to say, that it is 
by consciousness and memory that we get our idea of iden- 
tity, he still fails to reach the exact point. I may have 
been conscious of certain emotions ten years ago, and may 
to-day remember that I was then conscious of them ; but 
then the question returns, how do I know that the self — 
the I — is the same identical being, that he was ten years 
ago ? Am I conscious of it ? But I can be conscious of 
only present experience. Do I remember it ? But I re- 
member only what is past. Here, all must see that some- 
thing more is wanting to give the knowledge in question. 

* Essay, Vol. II., Chap. 27, p. 229. New York edition, 1818. 



184 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

I do not first remember certain experiences in past years, 
and hence infer mj identity. So changed are my feelings 
and so treacherous is my memory, that I might well distrust 
this evidence. The evidence of identity rests on no such 
precarious basis. The case rather stands thus : Knowing 
myself to be the same being to-day that I have been from 
the first, whatever may have been the changes in my expe- 
rience, and however treacherous my memory, of this I am 
certain, that the joys and sufferings which I experienced 
twenty or forty years ago, and those which I experience 
now, belong to one and the same being. Thus, while the 
knowledge of our identity springs into the mind along with 
consciousness and memory, it comes not in the relation of a 
dependent effect, but of an absolute and irresistible intuition. 
There is no reasoning, inferring, judging, in the premises ; 
it is from the first, kyiowledge. Ask the uneducated child, 
how he knows that he is the same being to-day that he was 
last year, and he is wont to reply, Because I am ;— which, 
with him, means much the same as to say, that he knows it 
by intuition. 

With these specimens of intuitive facts, and illustrations 
of the manner in which they are shown to be such, the 
reader may easily identify all others. Among these, some 
would place infinity, eternity, unity, design, substance, 
cause, &c. Such facts are not subjects of sense, neither 
can they be demonstrated by any mere reasoning process. 
But at certain periods of mental development they are intui- 
tively perceived, and perceived at once as absolute facts, 
about which no question can be raised. The importance of 
not admitting as intuitive knowledge what is not strictly 
so, and of drawing the line distinctly between what are, and 
what are not, proper subjects of logical proof, cannot be 
too deeply impressed upon the mind. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XV. 

What is intuition ? Remarks. What is said in the note ? Why do we 
use the term intuition in this connection 1 What objections to suggestion? 
Remarks ? Suppose that a mere conjecture, doubt, query, be considered 



INTUITION. 185 

as knowledge, does the reader so consider if? What is here always 
meant by the term knowledge ? What is said of intuition as to degrees 
of assurance? Is intuitive knowledge acquired? Remarks'? Do in- 
tuitive truths admit of proof? What is said here 1 ? What is the 
nature of the teachings of intuition ? Remarks ? What has philosophy to 
do with subjects of intuition ? Remarks ? What is said of mathematical 
axioms 1 Illustration ? What are moral axioms ? What is said of them 1 ? 
What distinction does Coleridge make ? On how many subjects may men 
make themselves fools ? Illustrations of this 1 State some of the moral 
axioms. Is the reader convinced of their being strictly intuitive truths ? 
What is the custom of all effectual moral reasoners 1 What is the effect 
of mere attempts to prove them ? What are metaphysical axioms ? State 
some. What remarks are made respecting intuitive propositions ? What 
is the apology for propositions involving intuitive truths, which are Httle 
else than truisms ? Have any of the received axioms been debated ? 
Give an instance. What is the reply 1 What is the first mentioned intui- 
tive fact ? Can existence be proved ? Why not ? What have some sup- 
posed ? What have others said ? Others still ? What is said of space ? 
What says Cousin of it ? The amount of it all 1 What is identity ? Re- 
marks ? Is the knowledge of it by the senses ? Why not? By memory 
alone ? Why not ? By consciousness alone 1 Views of Locke 1 Objections 
and remarks ? What must all here see * How stands the case then ? 
Concluding remarks ? 



IV 



CHAPTER XVI. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 



The second source of our primary rational knowledge is 
consciousness. This is the power of knowing whatever is 
passing in one's own mind. We can be strictly conscious 
of nothing else, unless it be our existence itself. The term 
implies knowing inwardly ; and its etymology is expressive 
of the exact idea attached to it in mental philosophy. We 
cannot therefore be at the present time conscious of any thing 
past, of any thing future ; nor of any thing pertaining to the 
material world ; of any thing passing in the mind of another ; 
of any thing above, beneath, around us. Most philosophers 
suppose that we are not strictly conscious of our own exist- 
ence ; that this is a subject of intuition : — that we can only 
be conscious of what is taking place within us. Our per- 
sonal mental phenomena, not our personal being, are 
supposed to be the precise and only subjects of our con- 
sciousness. * 

CONSCIOUSNESS REFERS TO ENTITIES. 

All the proper subjects of consciousness are actual entities 
or realities, and when we become conscious of them, they 

* On this point the most accurate thinkers differ. Francis Bowen, 
authof of the excellent work on Metaphysical and Ethical Science, sup- 
poses that we know our existence by consciousness. " This apperception, 
as Leibnitz calls it, or direct consciousness of self, seems to me an invaria- 
ble concomitant of mental action." — Self is an indivisible unit, — a 
monad, in technical phrase, endowed with intelligence and activity ; and 
we are directly conscious of it in itself, and in its passing into thought and 
act, without being compelled to infer its existence from these manifesta- 
tions," p. 55. Whether our existence be considered a subject of conscious- 
ness, or intuition, or both, is not a very material point. 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 187 

become subjects of absolute knowledge. For instance, a 
state of mental anxiety is an entity — a fact — and a man's 
being conscious of it, makes him know it as a fact. It does 
not remain to be proved : — his consciousness of it, is a proof 
of it, of the highest possible kind. 

SUBJECTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS SPECIFIED. 

Let us here indicate some of the classes of mental pheno- 
mena, which we know by consciousness. 

1. All our intellectual operations, — such as think- 
ing, reasoning, comparing, judging, multiplying, dividing, 
reckoning, planning. It is not contended that men may 
not, through the power of habit, sometimes do these things 
without being conscious of them. It is simply maintained, 
that whatever men directly know of them, they learn only 
by consciousness. 

2. Our mental emotions. Among these are included 
emotions awakened by whatever is grand, awful, terrible, 
beautiful, ludicrous, disgusting, charming. We know our- 
selves to be subjects of such emotions, only as we are con- 
scious of experiencing them. 

3. Our social and moral affections. Our filial, 
fraternal, conjugal, paternal affections ; our affections to- 
wards our fellow-beings in general, and towards Grod, are 
all made evident to us by personal consciousness. 

4. Our moral emotions. Emotions of gratitude to- 
wards man and towards God, in view of favors ; emotions of 
fear, reverence, humility ; emotions of anger, jealousy, envy ; 

emotions of hatred and revenge. 

5. Our volitions and purposes. We know that we 
will, choose, purpose, plan ; that we designedly avoid this 
and incline to that ; that we have objects in view, and strive 
to obtain them ; because we are conscious of so doing. 

6. Our pains and pleasures. Whatever we experi- 
ence of suffering, anguish, joy, delight ; — whether we are 
in a state of happiness, or a state of misery, or in a state of 
both united, — we know, only as our consciousness in- 
forms us. 



188 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

7. Our various degrees op belief. We are so con- 
stituted that, prejudice apart, we yield assent in greater or 
less degrees, according to evidence. Our minds may pass 
from the state expressed by positive disbelief, to a state of 
suspense; thence to presumption, belief, certainty. We 
may not, for want of attention to our mental exercises, 
be conscious of thus moving over from a state of disbelief to 
a state of assurance, in regard to a point at issue; but we 
can hardly fail to be conscious of the new state of mind, after 
we have reached it. 

The judge on the bench is at first without any belief what- 
ever, that the man at the bar is guilty. In the course of 
the trial, evidence against him is elicited, the judge begins 
to think his guilt probable, then almost certain, and finally 
quite certain. In the course of the trial, he was so much 
occupied with evidence, that he did not think of the change 
going on in his own mind ; but when this mental revolution 
becomes a subject of attention, he cannot fail to be con- 
scious of it. 

8. Our religious experience. Repentance, remorse, 
peace, hope, faith ; the sweet sense of forgiveness, and the 
joys of communion with God; feelings of discouragement 
and gloom, followed with feelings of animation and delight, 
or the steady abiding of the soul in the assurance of divine 
favor and eternal life, — are known only as they are subjects 
of personal consciousness. 



REMARKS on consciousness. 

1. From what has been said, it must appear that our 
consciousness is as important as our being. Annihilate it, 
and our being might as well cease. It is directly the ground 
of the knowledge which most intimately concerns us ; and 
indirectly of all we know. All that we are, all we possess, 
all we experience, derives its value from this attribute. 

2. The question is debated, whether consciousness is ever 
actually suspended. It is maintained, on the one hand, that 
in cases of fainting, trance, profound sleep, or intoxication, 
and under the influence of powerful medicines, of ether and 



CONSCIOUSNESS. 189 

chloroform, there is no consciousness whatever of pleasure or 
pain, and that hours of existence passed in this state are to 
the subject as though he were not. On the other hand, it 
is claimed, that there is consciousness at the moment, but 
that memory does not serve. 

Without entering upon a discussion which would be irrele- 
vant here, it will suffice to say, that the amount of the truth 
seems to be this, — In some cases, memory is most affect- 
ed, in others, consciousness, and, in some extreme cases, 
both memory and consciousness are utterly at fault together. 
For wise purposes, men are sometimes for a season cut off, 
as it were, from themselves ; — but their return to conscious- 
ness is not as the beginning of a new life ; it is the continu- 
ance of the old one. They begin their conscious life again, 
at the point where they left off. This proves that their con- 
sciousness was not destroyed, but only suspended. There is 
the same being, the same identity, the same consciousness, 
still going on. 

3. Consciousness is immortal. It may be for a time 
suspended, as we have seen, but it can never be finally des- 
troyed. It is a vital element of the soul. The character of 
the soul may change : vice may give place to virtue, sin 
to holiness, but consciousness remains ever the same. Phy- 
sical disease or mental derangement may impair its action, 
but the moment the pressure is off — the moment the mind 
is released from the influence of all disordered action — con- 
sciousness resumes its activity, and with all its felt real- 
ities moves on from the point that was left. In a philoso- 
phical view, the event of death will have far less to do with 
interrupting the course of our conscious being, than many 
events which we encounter on our way to the grave. All 
this is of course predicated on the fact before proved, — the 
immortality of the soul itself. 

4. The relation of consciousness to religion. If the 
above views are correct, men may know, and ought to know, 
their prevailing thoughts, feelings, views, purposes, aims, in 
relation to the momentous truths set forth in the Christian 
religion. Whether they believe them or not, love them or not, 
delight in them or not ; whether they repent of their sins, and 
seek the divine favor ; whether they love to pray, and to per- 



190 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

form all the duties enjoined by Christ ; whether they most 
love and pursue this world, or heaven, — are questions to be 
settled only by a faithful attention to the teachings of their 
own consciousness. Searching our own hearts, to see what 
manner of men we are, is nothing more nor less than carefully 
observing what our consciousness tells us, as compared with 
God's rule of faith and duty. If we are conscious of a pre- 
vailing aversion to prayer, for instance, when God especially 
enjoins it, we cannot innocently fail to know that our hearts 
are not right. 

Not only are we thus indebted to consciousness for the 
knowledge of our characters, but for the happiness or the 
misery to be derived from them. Could the wicked man an- 
nihilate his consciousness, he would have nothing to fear ; on 
the other hand, were the good man to be sure of losing his 
consciousness, he would have nothing to hope. The fact 
that we are to be forever conscious of our characters ; con- 
scious of all the thoughts, the emotions, passions, that will 
eternally play in our souls, is among the most glorious and 
awful of all known realities. It invests our rational and im- 
mortal being with a solemnity and importance, which lan- 
guage can but feebly express. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVI. 

What is consciousness ? What does the term imply 1 Remarks. What 
are the proper subjects of consciousness 1 Instance 1 What is the first 
mentioned class of subjects % Examples ? Second class ? Examples 1 
Third class 1 Examples 1 Fourth class ? Examples 1 Fifth class ? 
Sixth ? Seventh 1 Remarks ? Eighth ? Erom what has been said, what 
must appear ? What question is debated ? State the argument on each 
side. What docs the truth seem to be 1 How enduring is consciousness ? 
Remarks 1 What is said respecting the relation of consciousness to reli- 
gion 1 What is implied in searching our hearts ? What would be the 
consequences to good and to bad men, were their consciences to be anni- 
hilated ? What is said of the fact that we are to be forever conscious \ 



PART II. 



CHAPTER XVII 



SECONDARY KNOWLEDGE. 



ATTENTION. 



We have hitherto confined our observations to that kind 
of human knowledge, which comes to the mind directly 
through the senses, in connection with intuition and con- 
sciousness. It is called primary, because we obtain it first, 
and without any reasoning process. It constitutes our men- 
tal capital, or primary stock of ideas. We have other pow- 
ers of intellect, which take up these primary ideas, combine, 
separate, re-combine, arrange them, and reason upon them ; 
and thus, in various ways, augment our mental riches. These 
powers are of a higher order than the preceding, are held 
by men in more unequal degrees, and are susceptible of 
much more cultivation. Some of them we hold in common 
with brutes ; others distinguish the human mind entirely 
from all brute mind. 

We shall begin with those which w T e have in common 
with brutes. Brutes have the various senses, in common 
with man ; they have also consciousness, and something 
answering their purpose, as well as intuition and forethought 
do ours, which we call instinct. They have also more than 



192 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

these ; they have, to some extent, attention, association^ 
memory. 

PRIMARY AND SECONDARY IDEAS. 

Before proceeding, we must notice another distinction 
between primary and secondary ideas. Primary ideas are 
all cognitions ; secondary ideas are not all cognitions. So 
far as there is demonstration, or proof, in respect to the 
latter, they become as truly cognitions as the former ; oth- 
erwise, they s^and in the doubtful position of mere ideas — 
suggestions, suppositions, conjectures, speculations, fictions, 
fancies. But whether they respect things real, unreal, or 
half real, passing for what they are, they are valuable as 
intellectual furniture ; they serve to enrich and embellish 
the mind, to augment its power and happiness. 



ATTENTION DEFINED. 

Attention implies the power of fixing the mind steadily 
upon a given subject. It is partly involuntary, partly volun- 
tary. Sometimes our minds, drawn by feeling, or compelled 
by circumstances, are riveted so firmly to a subject of 
thought, that we cannot detach them, until exhausted nature 
or some other cause interpose. But in far the most numer- 
ous instances, our attention is more directly under our con- 
trol. The more we discipline it, the more obedient it be- 
comes to our volition. 

ATTENTION IN BRUTES. 

It is evident that brutes have, to some extent, the power of 
attention, although they have not reason to guide it. Taught 
by instinct, they attend to the calls of their young, and 
sometimes fix their attention for a considerable time upon 
the object in view. Under the admonition of the lash, the 
horse, the mule, the monkey is trained to attend to his mas- 
ter's will, and becomes very careful not to resist it. Dogs 
have sometimes been so attentive to objects of trust as 



ATTENTION. 193 

to neglect the calls of hunger. It is recorded, as an 
instance of fidelity in this fine animal, that a man on a jour- 
ney, having occasion to leave his effects in charge of his 
dog, expecting to be absent only a few hours, but being 
detained some days, found on his return his faithful ser- 
vant dead of starvation. There was food accessible to the 
animal, but he was so absorbed in attention to the object 
of his charge, that he neglected to take it. He had the 
power of attention, but wanted reason, 

NATURE OF THE MENTAL ACT IN ATTENTION. 

There seems to have been some question among philoso 
phers, respecting the precise nature of the mental effort in 
attention ; whether it implies a special energetic or impulsive 
action of the will, or whether the effort is purely intellectual. 
It seems evident from our consciousness, that both the intel- 
lect and the will are put in requisition. But in the best 
acts of attention, there is perhaps less forced mental energy 
than may be supposed. To be most effectual, attention 
must be natural, easy, composed. A painful effort often 
divides attention. Of this we are all conscious. Sometimes 
a pupil nerves up his attention almost to an agony, with a 
view to committing a lesson, and gives it up in despair. At 
another time, in a more composed state, he learns the lesson 
with ease. Our mental, as well as our bodily powers, should 
be exerted in a natural way. 

HOW TO SECURE FIXEDNESS OF ATTENTION. 

There are three rules for learning to fix the attention, 
which every pupil should early reduce to practice. 

1. He must determine to do it. In all cases where fixed 
attention is demanded, he must hold himself resolved to 
render it. Without this, he can secure no mental discipline, 
His intellect will ever be the puny and helpless child of 
accident. If any thing is to be learned, whether from books, 
or a lecture, or conversation, or a walk in the fields, or a 
visit to a gallery of arts, or from our own reminiscences, he 
17 



194 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

must resolve on giving his fixed attention. If any thing 
diverts it, with jealous vigilance he must instantly call it 
back to duty. 

But as attention cannot be always on special duty, with- 
out exhaustion, appropriate seasons of relaxation should be 
allowed. To this end, seasons of recess in schools are well 
adapted. The pupil who would succeed, must make it a 
point of settled determination, during every moment not 
appropriated to recess, to give to his studies a fixed and 
absorbing attention. He should take notice of nothing 
around him, he should for the time not know that there is 
any thing else in existence, but the subject of his study. 

2. The mind must be interested in the object. It is very 
difficult to fix attention long upon any thing in which no in- 
terest is felt. The pupil should therefore first consider the 
importance of the knowledge to be acquired, so as to nerve 
his mind to the work. Attention, then, serves to awaken 
interest, and interest to fix attention. There is a reciprocity 
of action. When there is little interest at first, the reliance 
is mainly on the determination, sustained by a consideration 
of the importance of the object ; as the attention becomes 
steadily directed to the object, the interest in it increases, 
until at length this alone may be sufficient to hold the 
thoughts to it. 

Many a person who has, at first, felt little interest in a sub- 
ject, excepting what resulted from a mere sense of its im 
portance, has by the study of it become so deeply interested 
that effort became needful, not to attend to it, but to divert 
his attention. Let not the pupil, therefore, be disheartened, 
or abandon a study, because he feels at first no interest in 
it. If the importance of the study demands attention, let 
that attention be promptly and resolutely rendered, and an 
interest will rise in the mind, which, by faithful nurture, 
will steadily grow, and result in complete success. 

3. Efforts of attention must be systematically repeated. 
The mind does not grow by fits and starts, but by systematic 
training. Systematic repetition has the effect to form a 
habit, and this renders attention both steady and easy. 
Even after the interest at first felt in a subject, has by long 
familiarity become diminished, if a habit of attention to it 



ATTENTION. 195 

has been formed, continued attention costs but little effort. 
The mechanic, the artist, the professional man, may not 
after years of devotion to his calling feel the same enthu- 
siasm as at first, but having become accustomed to it, the 
requisite attention is easy. 

Here we see a wise provision of Providence, in making the 
power of habit take the place of freshness of interest. And 
he who has failed to secure this habit under the impulse of 
fresh interest, will never realize the blessing of a well disci- 
plined intellect, 

RESULT. 

When all these conditions are fulfilled, when there is 
a firm purpose, a deep interest, a systematic and perse- 
vering effort, the most profound and efficient attention is 
the result. This is the grand element of success in every 
study, in every pursuit. With this, Alpine difficulties are 
surmounted, walls of adamant give way, before the firm and 
resolute on-goings of the mind. This attainment is within 
the reach of all ; and when made, it renders even the fee- 
blest intellect effective. Let every pupil aspire to it, as of 
greater and more enduring value than treasures of gold. 
Let us now notice some of its particular advantages. 

1. Fulness and accuracy of perception. What has 
been previously said respecting perception, must be here 
noticed. The mind does not perceive all the points of an 
object at a glance. It apprehends one point after another, 
until, by a protracted attention, the entire object is appre- 
hended. The time required for this fulness of perception 
varies with our previous knowledge of the object, with its 
extent and complexity, and with the power of attention. 
For a measurable time, more or less — varying from minutes 
to hours and days — a fixed and absorbing attention is indis- 
pensable to a clear and full perception of its subject. On 
•this, therefore, depends the accuracy and extent of our 
primary knoivledge. 

2. Reach and value of our associations. Our 
most obvious associations with any object, are of course natu- 
rally first in our thoughts. If the attention is unsteady, 



196 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

bounding from one thing to another, these will be the only 
associations formed. But the more remote associations, or 
at least those less obvious at the first glance, are usually the 
most valuable. They are the more scientific. Here runs 
the line of demarkation between the superficial and the pro- 
found thinker. The man of feeble and fickle attention, sees 
things only in their more obvious, simple, accidental rela- 
tions ; the man of firm and penetrating attention, sees them 
in those far-reaching, complex, all-embracing relations, which 
bind the universe together. The former sees facts only in 
a fragmentary and disjointed state ; the latter sees them in 
their mutual and wide relations. Originality of thought, 
invention, discovery, scientific induction, result from that 
power of attention which throws the associations out of the 
beaten track. In this, more than perhaps any thing else, 
lies the difference between the most ordinary mind and that 
of a Newton or a Milton. 

3. Memory. The memory depends upon attention almost 
absolutely.* Indeed, without some degree of attention, it is 
impossible to remember distinctly, even for a moment. 
Speak to a man absorbed in thought, he hears, answers, 
and in one minute has forgotten all. He paid so little 
attention, his mind being so much occupied otherwise, that 
there was not impression enough made to be remembered. 
The clock strikes ; he takes out his watch, sets and winds 
it, returns it to the pocket, and in less than a minute has 
entirely forgotten what -he has heard and done. He was of 
course conscious of all at the moment, but his attention was 
too much wanting to fix it in the memory. What makes the 
schoolboy forget his father's errand ? Because his thoughts 
are so much occupied with his studies or his play, that he 
does not sufficiently attend to what his father says. 

EXAMPLE. 

A remarkable instance of the dependence of memory on 
attention, is furnished by a fact in the life of the late Pro- 

* " C'est 1'attcntion. plus ou moins granclc, qui grave, plus ou moins 
profoudement, les objets clans la memoire." Ilelvetius Dc FEsprit. See 
Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 65. 



ATTENTION. 197 

fessor Fisher, of Yale College. On one occasion, he was 
so absorbed in some scientific investigation, that on the 
ringing of the bell for dinner, he left his room, went to the 
dining-hall, took his official position, invoked the benediction, 
presided and ate his meal as usual, and returned to his 
studies, without having afterwards the least recollection of 
any thing that had taken place. Towards night he had 
solved his problem, and bethought himself of dinner. On 
looking at his watch, he was surprised to find the time for 
dining had gone by several hours. Alarmed at his official 
neglect, he went to an adjoining room to inquire who pre- 
sided in his absence, and was yet more surprised on learn- 
ing that he had presided himself. 

The reasons why memory is so dependent on attention 
are involved in what has already been said, and what re- 
mains to be said under the head of Association. 



PROFOUND ATTENTION CHARACTERISTIC OF GREAT MINDS. 

It is impossible to make eminent intellectual attainments, 
without an unusual degree of the poiver of attention. Hence 
truly great minds have ever been eminently characterized 
by it. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton, that he was often so 
absorbed in study, that days and nights passed, and with 
them his customary sleep and meals, without being by him 
remembered. La Place is said sometimes to have forgotten 
not only his sleep and his meals, but the presence and atten- 
tions of his dearest friends. Leibnitz was so intensely occu- 
pied with study and thought, for weeks together, as to forget 
the season of the year, and sometimes mistook winter for 
summer. Napoleon, a distinguished mathematician, as well 
as general, when earnestly engaged in his studies, forgot 
the customary civilities of his station, although at other 
times one of the most courteous of men. The truth is, the 
human mind cannot give the amount of attention requisite 
to excel in a great and difficult subject of thought, without 
for the time neglecting every thing else. It must be what 
Horace calls totus in illis — wholly absorbed in its subject. 
17* 



198 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



ABSENT-MINDEDNESS NO MARK OE GREATNESS. 

Absent-mindedness sometimes passes for evidence of pro- 
found attention to important subjects. A man may be 
absent-minded, because his thoughts are occupied on great 
subjects ; but, ordinarily, it is because he is listless, thought- 
less, stupid. Whenever men of deep thought are absent- 
minded in company, it is their weakness, not their greatness, 
that makes them so. There is a time for all things ; and 
it is a mark of a truly great and well-bred mind, to be atten- 
tive to the things on hand. Ordinarily, it is the weaker 
minds, not taught to control attention, which are regardless 
of the proprieties of time and place. Young people cannot 
be too careful to form habits of ever wakeful presence of 
mind. 

DIVIDED ATTENTION. 

Some interesting facts connected with this subject seem 
worthy of notice, especially as philosophers have made them 
matters of controversy. It is well known that men some- 
times attend to two or three subjects at the same time. A 
violinist will play one part and sing another. When a man 
has become accustomed to setting types, he will set up page 
after page with perfect accuracy, and be meanwhile thinking 
upon another subject. The late Dr. D wight sometimes held 
conversation with his friends, gave directions to others con- 
nected with his official duties, and dictated a sermon to his 
immanuensis, all at the same time. Almost every man 
is sometimes engaged in writing letters of friendship or 
business, while holding conversation with persons present. 
The school teacher is frequently engaged in solving a mathe- 
matical problem, requiring a long and careful process of 
calculation, while attending to a recitation in some other 
branch, and does both with a vigilance that detects the first 
error. 

Now what is the solution of these facts ? Does the mind 
actually attend to two or three things at one and the same 
instant ; or does it pass rapidly back and forth from the 



ATTENTION. 199 

one to the other ? The latter seems to be the most philo- 
sophical solution. In this respect, the mind seems like the 
eye. We know that the eye is physically incapable of being 
directed to but a single point at a time, and yet by the 
rapidity of its movements it takes in many at a glance. It 
seems indeed a contradiction to say, that the mind can point 
its attention two ways at once. 

That we are unconscious of the passing back and forth of 
our volitions, is accounted for by their rapidity, and by the 
fact that our attention is wholly directed to its several sub- 
jects, and not to what is passing within us. Surely if the 
eye, a physical instrument, can move with a rapidity defying 
notice, much more the mind itself, whose movements are 
the very lightning. 



But there is another question, beyond the above, touching 
the existence of the mental act itself. When a lady has 
become an accomplished performer on the piano, she will 
hold conversation, or have her mind otherwise occupied, 
while going through a long and difficult piece with the 
utmost accuracy. She is perhaps so much absorbed in 
thinking upon some interesting matter, as not to recollect 
what she performed, or even that she performed at all ? 
The question is, whether every touch of the keys is accom- 
panied with a mental act on her part. Dr. Hartley sup- 
poses, that the intense rapidity of thought, bounding back 
and forth between the keys and the other subjects of atten- 
tion, is inconceivable ; and maintains that, by repetition, the 
movement of the fingers has become purely mechanical or 
automotive. " Habit," he says, " differs from instinct, not 
in its nature but its origin ; the last being natural, the first 
acquired. Both operate without will or intention, without 
thought, and therefore may be called mechanical principles. 
I conceive it to be a part of our constitution, that what we 
have become accustomed to do, we acquire not only a facility 
but a proneness to do on like occasions, so that the doing of 
it often requires no will at all. An expert performer will 



200 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

play from notes, or ideas laid up in the memory, and at the 
same time carry on a quite different train of thoughts in his 
mind, or even hold conversation with another. Whence we 
may conclude, that there is no intervention of the idea or 
state of mind called will." * Cases of this kind he calls 
" transitions of voluntary or intentional actions into automatic 



OBJECTIONS TO THE ABOVE THEORY. 

It is perhaps a sufficient objection to the above theory, in 
a philosophical view, that it supposes an unknown element 
in the human constitution — an element which no philo- 
sophical analysis has ever been able to find. The theory is 
therefore the admission of an effect without a cause. 

That the movement cannot be mechanical or automatic, 
seems evident from the fact that there is no machinery, no 
mechanical contrivance, to operate as a motive power on the 
fingers. The movement must therefore be produced by the 
performer's volitions, for there is no other power. To say 
that habit does it, is saying nothing to the purpose ; for the 
habit of it is the habitual doing of it. 

Moreover, that the performer's thoughts and volitions are 
engaged in the performance, would seem certain from the 
fact, that if any thing happens to disturb it, — if a chord 
falter, a discordant note be struck, or a person playing in 
concert make a mistake, she instantly stops. This she could 
not do, unless her thoughts and volitions controlled her 
fingers. It seems surprising that even no less a thinker 
than Thomas Reid should have countenanced the above 
theory. 

HOW PHILOSOPHERS CAME TO ADOPT THIS THEORY. 

We come to this conclusion : — that philosophers have 
felt themselves forced into the above theory, by not duly 
considering the amazing rapidity of which human thoughts 

* Hartley's Essays on the Active Powers of Man, p. 128. 



ATTENTION. 201 

and volitions are capable, and the comparative ease with 
which they are directed, when long attention and practice 
have brought them under perfect control. They may then 
be made to pass back and forth, between two or more sub- 
jects, with lightning speed, superintending and directing all 
— and the subject which at the time most interests the mind, 
is the one best remembered, perhaps the only one remem- 
bered at all. This, again, shows how much memory depends 
upon the feeling or passion with which a subject is contem- 
plated, and how little upon the mere thought and volition. 
It is & feeling of awakened interest that secures the measure 
of attention to any one subject,- when brought into competi- 
tion with others, requisite to secure for it a place in the 
memory. The lady supposed above was passionately inter- 
ested in a subject of thought, while the piano performance 
had become an old affair that awakened no feeling, except- 
ing when something went wrong. Into the latter she carried 
only thought and volition, and therefore instantly forgot what 
she played, and perhaps forgot even that she played at all ; 
into the former she carried her passion, along with her 
thoughts and volitions, and therefore retained of it a lively 
remembrance. 



RELATION OF ATTENTION TO RELIGION 

The importance of a well formed habit of attention to 
mental growth and the acquisition of knowledge, has been 
already shown. Equally effective and still more important 
it is, as related to the momentous verities of Christianity. 
It is this, more than perhaps any other natural cause, that 
contributes to the securing of that " faith," which " is 
the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
things not seen." Why do so many walk in darkness, 
even amid the splendors of heaven's most glorious 
beams ? Why do so many live and die, as though there 
were no God to serve, no Saviour to trust, no soul to save, 
no heaven to gain ? Sufficient reason would be given, were 



202 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

it only replied, because they have never given that atten- 
tion to Christianity, which it justly claims. The Creator 
implanted the power of attention in their minds for great 
purposes — of which this is the greatest — but they have 
failed to improve it. 

Let all pupils early commence, not only a thorough and 
systematic training of the power of attention, but its faithful 
application to the teachings of Christianity ; let them give, 
at all appropriate seasons, a full and absorbing attention to 
its stupendous facts, its high demands, its solemn sanctions ; 
let them thus habitually bring their minds in close and 
earnest contact with those gracious developments, which 
solve the enigma of life, unbind the fetters of sin, lift up the 
gates of the tomb, and pour the radiance of heaven over 
eternity ; and the laws of mind and of God's government 
assure us, that we have every reason to believe eternal life 
wiil be theirs. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVII. 

To what have we hitherto confined our observations 1 Why is this 
called primary knowledge ? What does it constitute ? What is said of 
other mental powers ? With which shall we begin ? What powers have 
brutes ? What other distinction is noticed between primary and secondary 
ideas ? Considered as a mental attribute, what does attention imply 1 Is 
it voluntary 1 Have brutes the power of attention ? Examples ? What 
question among philosophers ? What seems evident from consciousness ? 
Which are the best acts of attention ? Illustrate. How many rules for 
fixing attention? First rule? Remarks'? Second rule ? Remarks? What 
encouragement is given to the pupil ? Third rule ? Remarks ? What 
the result ? First particular advantage ? How explained ? Second? How 
explained ? What results from that power of attention which throws the 
associations out of the beaten track ? Third. How much does memory 
depend on attention ? How shown ? State the example. Of what is pro- 



QUESTIONS. 203 

found attention the characteristic ? What is here said to be impossible 1 
What cases axe cited? Is absent-mindedness a mark of greatness ? What 
is said of it ! What is meant by divided attention ? Cases in illustration ? 
What questions in solution of these facts ? What view is here given 1 
What """as Hartley's theory, as illustrated by a musical performance ! 
State the objection to this theory. How does it appear that the move- 
ment cannot be mechanical ? Suppose we refer it to habit 1 How does 
it appear certain that the performers thoughts are engaged? Why have 
philosophers held the above theory ? Remarks ? How is the above 
case explained ? What is said of the relation of attention to religion ? 



CHAPTER XVIII 



ASSOCIATION. 



Our thoughts do not flow on at random. There is 
mental power which binds them together. That power is 
called Association. One thought never lives and dies alone. 
Long before it dies, it brings another, another, a family oi 
thoughts, to take its place ; and when it dies, it dies to live 
again, by the magic touch of memory, in connection with 
the vast progeny of thoughts to which it gave birth. We 
may therefore define Association, That power which, when 
we think of one thing, induces us to think of others sustain- 
ing to it some relation. 

ASSOCIATION AND SUGGESTION. 

Thomas Brown merges Association in Suggestion, and re- 
tains only the latter term. But the advantage is on the side 
of the established nomenclature. Used in its largest sense, 
the former term includes all that is expressed by the latter, 
while it has the advantage of more exactly defining the laws 
of mental operation. The mind is not moved to suggest, ex- 
cepting as it is caused to do so ; and that cause is referable 
to some form of association.* 

* " A man, while awake, is conscious of a continued train of perceptions 
and ideas passing in his mind. It requires no activity on his part to carry- 
on the train ; nor can he at will add any idea to the train. For how could 
this be done 1 What idea is it that we are to add ? If we can specify the 
idea, that idea is already in the mind, and there is no occasion for any act 
of the will. If we cannot specify any idea, I next demand, how can a per- 
son will, or to what purpose, if there be nothing in view ? We cannot 
form a conception of such a thing. If this argument need confirmation, 
I urge experience : whoever makes a trial will find, that ideas are linked 
together in the mind, forming a connected chain ; and that we have not 
the command of any idea independent of the chain." Kaim's Elements, 
p. 19, with note. New York edition, 1845. 



ASSOCIATION. 205 

The falling of an apple, suggested to Sir Isaac Newton 
the theory of universal gravitation : — The existence of evil, 
in a moral government, suggests the hypothesis that it was 
unavoidable : — A trifling incident suggested to Mr. Whit- 
ney the problem, whose solution resulted in the famous cot- 
ton gin : — The disastrous effects of intemperance, suggests 
the inquiry, whether total abstinence is not best. In all 
these cases, we see some form of association giving rise to 
the suggestions. We see the working of that mental power, 
by which one idea suggests or becomes in thought associated 
with another. We shall therefore proceed, including what- 
ever might be referred to suggestion under the generic term 
association. 



ASSOCIATION IN BKUTES. 

That brutes have association, must be obvious to all who 
notice their movements. The horse associates the manger 
with food, the carriage with movement, the lash with pain. 
When we drive a hungry horse along the road, if he sees a 
shed with a manger by the way, he inclines to go to it. He 
evidently thinks of his provender. When harnessed and 
placed upon the way, he is impatient to move ; and when the 
lash is raised, he leaps through fear, although no blow is in- 
flicted. All domestic animals learn to associate certain 
sounds with certain acts : — the ox, for instance, turns to 
the right, to the left, halts, quickens his pace, or stops, as 
the sound indicates. The fox, the squirrel, the rat, learns 
to associate the trap with danger. 

In most animals, dag is associated with activity, night with 
repose. Nor can it be said that this is owing merely to 
fatigue at night, inviting rest ; — for in case of an eclipse, 
early in the day, cattle low as at night-fall, and fowls go to 
their roost. Other periods of time have with them their asso- 
ciations, as is evidenced by the periodical crowing of the cock, 
singing of the nightingale, &c. But association in brute 
mind is very limited, involving no reach of thought, being 
connected with no rational powers. 
18 



206 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 

Association is not a blind power, but is regulated by exact 
laws. To a certain extent, it is affected by causes without 
us ; and to a certain extent it is under our own control. 
The point where causes without us and our own agency 
meet, is so nicely adjusted, as to secure our accountable 
moral agency, and make us subjects of government. Let us 
first notice those causes without, which act upon and move 
our power of association. 

1. Place. When we look upon a battle-field, we think 
of carnage, fallen heroes, victory, defeat. When we look 
upon the former residence of a poet, statesman, philosopher, 
philanthropist, the illustrious dead who once lived there, is 
in our thoughts. When we survey the ruins of Rome, 
Greece, Egypt, the great men and great events once moving 
there, are moving in our own minds. We associate the 
home of our childhood with our childish sports ; — and ever, 
to visit the place of our youth, instruction, marriage, and 
earlier years of service, recalls the events once realized there, 
and revives something of the feelings they once inspired. 
Topical association feeds the poet's inspiration ; it consecrates 
and renders classic the places of distinguished men and sig- 
nal events ; it gives to the mountains, groves, rivers, plains, 
the moss-grown mounds and tumbling walls, of certain coun- 
tries in the old world, a present and ever growing impor- 
tance. 

2. Time. To the American, the fourth of July is asso- 
ciated with independence. We associate the twenty-fifth of 
December with the birth of Christ, and with the wonted 
benedictions and festivities of the occasion. The New Eng- 
lander associates Thanksgiving day with his noble ancestors 
who instituted it, and with the customary domestic festivities 
of that occasion. Association has filled our almanacs and 
chronological tables with an almost endless list of interesting 
days. Hence, periodical association is of great service, in 
perpetuating both the facts and the interest of history. 

3. Resemblance. When we see a person resembling 
some dear friend, his presence brings that friend to our 



ASSOCIATION. 207 

thoughts. When in a strange land we pass a house, or other 
objects resembling those with which we have been familiar in 
our own country, we think of home ; and if the resemblance 
is striking, W e almost imagine ourselves there. Certain 
sounds make us think of the sounds of instruments, or of the 
human voice, which they resemble. A picture reminds us 
of the person whom it represents. The art of the painter 
and of the sculptor is founded on this law of association. 
Classification is also mostly dependent upon it. 

4. Contrast. We are inclined to associate in our 
thoughts things opposed to each other, scarcely less than 
those which are alike. When shivering with cold upon a 
bleak wintry road, we think of the warm comforts of the fire- 
side. Never does the storm-beaten mariner think more in- 
tensely of sweet home, than when in circumstances the most 
unlike it. The mind loves contrast. There is an excite- 
ment — a thrill of pleasure — in dashing from one extreme 
to another. Hence, the mind passes in thought from the 
pigmy to the giant, from sorrow to joy, from despair to hope, 
from pain to ease, from the cradle to the grave, from life to 
death, from time to eternity. The mind delights to bring 
together opposite colors, opposite tastes, opposite causes, 
opposite characters. The figure called Antithesis is found- 
ed on this law of association, — a figure in which bold and 
dashing writers abound. 

5. Symbols. The picture of an eye does not resemble 
God, but it symbolizes him as the All-Seeing. A pair of 
scales does not resemble justice, nor does a ring resemble 
eternity, but they are appropriate symbols of the things they 
severally suggest. The ant is not like industry, yet the pic- 
ture of so industrious an animal naturally suggests that vir- 
tue. On this principle, the entire alphabet of symbols is 
constructed. So strongly do religious symbols become asso- 
ciated with what is symbolized, that they sometimes become 
themselves objects of religious homage. Hence, idol worship. 

This principle of association is at the foundation of much 
bold and animated rhetoric ; — as when we say, God is a 
rock, a tower, a man of war, a consuming fire. 

6. Cause and Effect. When we contemplate a cause, 
its effect is suggested ; and in like manner the effect sug- 



208 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

gests the cause. The thunderbolt, ringing in our ears, 
makes us think of the work of destruction ; and the rifted 
oak directs our thoughts to the lightning that rent it. A 
raging pestilence reminds us of death ; and as the dead are 
borne by our windows to the grave, we think of the raging 
pestilence. When we read an interesting book, we think of 
its author, and when we see the author, we are reminded of 
the book. This principle of association has a very wide and 
important range, inciting the mind to various philosophical 
inquiries. 

7. Resemblance of Effects. We are wont to asso- 
ciate things together, which produce effects bearing to each 
other a resemblance, however dissimilar the things themselves. 
Thus things that exhilarate or depress us, strengthen or 
weaken, enhearten or discourage, w T e group together in 
thought, although the one be a physical and the other a 
spiritual cause. The presence of a friend in trouble we as- 
sociate with a cordial, because in some sense both refresh us. 
Whatever afflicts us, we associate with wormwood, because 
both are unpleasant. On this principle, by an abridged meta- 
phor we directly substitute the one cause for the other, 
thus rendering description sprightly and elegant. We speak 
of smiling skies, frowning cliffs, angry seas, treacherous 
winds. On this principle are founded some of the finest 
poetical allusions ; and unless the sensibilities of the reader 
are in accordance with those of the poet, he can neither ap- 
preciate nor enjoy them. 

8. Accidental Relations. A present is associated 
with the person who gave it ; a dress, with the person who 
wore it ; a house, with the distinguished man who once lived 
in it. When relations of this sort become permanent, how- 
ever arbitrary, they are as suggestive as any that can be 
formed. The relation is thus established between musical 
characters and musical sounds; between certain words and 
the sounds they denote, and between sounds and the ideas 
they represent; between language and thought. Hence, 
the entire machinery and power of language depends on this 
principle of association. 

Such are the principal causes tending to excite the mental 
power now under consideration. We at once perceive that 



ASSOCIATION. 209 

"without this power in exercise, our thoughts would be isolat- 
ed, scattered, floating at random in every direction. Each 
fact entering the mind through the senses, would be an indi- 
viduality, standing apart from every other fact on the great 
sea of observation, without either meaning or value. Each 
idea must come alone, introduced by a special act of atten- 
tion — a stranger and sojourner — to be taken care of, but 
to do nothing towards introducing and taking care of others. 
Association lifts her potent sceptre ; the marshalled hosts 
obey, and gather before the mind's eye in beauteous order, 
to go forth to service with ever growing numbers. The re- 
lations of this power to memory ', will be considered in con- 
nection with that subject. 



HOW WE MAY CONTROL OUR ASSOCIATIONS. 

Although we cannot stop the current of ideas produced 
by association, we may direct it. It is in every man's power 
to render his association of ideas either good or bad. He 
may hold an idea suggestive of evil long in his mind, until it 
has put his associations upon an evil track ; or he may at 
once dismiss that idea, in favor of another tending to good. 
" Of the powers which the mind possesses over the train of 
its thoughts," says Stewart, " the most obvious is its power of 
singling out any one of them at pleasure ; of detaining it ; 
and of making it a particular object of attention. By doing 
so, we not only stop the succession that would otherwise 
take place, but, in consequence of our bringing to view the 
less obvious relations among our ideas, we frequently direct 
the current of our thoughts into a new channel." * 

Lord Kaims holds the following language, to the same pur- 
pose : — " Though we cannot add to the train an unconnect- 
ed idea, yet, in a measure,, we can attend to some ideas, and 
dismiss others. There are few things but what are connect- 
ed with many others ; and when a thing thus connected be- 
comes a subject of thought, it commonly suggests many of 
its connections. Among these a choice is afforded : we can 

* Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 167. 

18* 



210 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

insist upon one, rejecting others ; and sometimes we insist on 
■what is commonly held the slighter connection." * 

Association, then, is so placed under our control, as to 
lay on every man the full responsibility of the consequences 
to which it leads him. 



CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING ASSOCIATION. 

Constitutional difference, and difference of pursuit, have 
much influence in modifying our associations. Every 
man's associations gather with peculiar force around the 
things connected with his particular calling. Those con- 
nected with scenes of classic interest, for example, are strong- 
er and more numerous with the student than with the man 
of business. Let a clergyman, a machinist, and a money- 
getting man, visit a manufacturing establishment together, 
and, with precisely the same objects before them, the thoughts 
of the first will be employed upon the moral and religious as- 
pect of things ; those of the second, upon the perfection, in- 
genuity, or defects of the machinery ; those of the third, 
upon the value of investments there, and prospects of gain. 
Entirely different trains of association will be started in these 
several minds, and each will probably think the others re- 
markably stupid. " In consequence of these associations, 
every man appears to his neighbor to pursue the object of 
his wishes, with a zeal disproportioned to its intrinsic 'value ; 
and the philosopher, whose principal enjoyment arises from 
speculation, is frequently apt to smile at the ardor with which 
the active part of mankind pursue what appear to him to be 
mere shadows." f 

INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON SCIENCE AND THE ARTS. 

The principal reason why some men are more inventive 
than others, is, that they so control their associations, that 
they conduct them out of the beaten track to things un- 



* Kiiims' Elements of Criticism, p. 20. 
t .Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 219. 



ASSOCIATION. 211 

noticed by others. A variety of things may be so related to 
the same object, that either of them may be more or less 
brought into view. Most men let their thoughts light upon 
only the more obvious relations, and pass along. The man 
of genius pauses, thinks, looks after things rare and valuable, 
rather than those first in his associations, and thus strikes out 
an original track. 

Most men, sitting in an orchard and seeing apples fall 
from the trees, would be led to think of the ripeness and 
desirableness of the fruit ; of its scarcity or abundance ; of 
its market value, &c. A man of genius thought perhaps of 
these things, but he did not dismiss the matter here : — he 
thought of more. The falling of that apple is like the fall- 
ing of other bodies. What makes them fall ? Does not 
the same law regulate the falling of all bodies ? Their ve- 
locity increases as they approach the earth : — how is this ? 
May it not be that all bodies tend towards each other, in 
obedience to one and the same law ? Thus suggestion keeps 
extending the operation of the associating principle, until the 
falling of that apple becomes connected with the rolling of 
suns and planets in the heavens. In the same way does this 
principle become subservient to all the inventions and im- 
provements, in the various arts, that bless and adorn hu- 
manity. 

The pressure of necessity sometimes contributes to force 
the mind out of its wonted channel to objects more remote, 
and thus to make a dull genius inventive. Many of the in- 
ventions most important to mankind, have come to pass in 
this way. Hence, the common remark, " Necessity is the 
mother of invention" 



INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON SPECULATIVE JUDGMENT. 

When truth is dug from the mine, it seldom comes free 
of alloy. The pure and the base being thus associated in 
our minds, it becomes the work of original thought to sepa- 
rate them. Some of the errors incorporated with early sys- 
tems of philosophy, we have to this day hardly consented to 
abandon ; and false philosophies engrafted with religious 



212 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

truths, often become so sanctified by association, that the most 
vigorous originality of thought, at the hazard of incurring 
public odium, can scarcely avail to disunite them. This re- 
sults from the fact, that the two subjects of thought, the 
truth and the error, have become so closely united in the 
mind, that it requires a peculiar effort to consider them apart, 
and conduct a process of reasoning which relates exclu- 
sively to either. 



INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON LOVE OF MONEY. 

The untaught child places no value on a bundle of old 
bank notes. A picture, worth only a penny, is by him more 
valued than thousands of dollars. The value which he sub- 
sequently learns to attach to these little bits of rusty paper, 
is the w T ork of association. He connects them with indepen- 
dence, luxury, importance, distinction. A man witnessing 
for the first time the burning of a large bundle of old bank 
notes, as is the custom at banks when new are to be substitut- 
ed, fetched a deep sigh and said, That goes to my heart. 
The same is true of the origin of our love of all property. If 
the affection passes over from the objects which money repre- 
sents to the money itself, it constitutes not only a worldling, 
but a miser; — not only a miserable man, as the term de- 
notes, but one of earth's most eminent fools. 



INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON FASHION. 

The prevailing fashions of anyplace or period, are regulat- 
ed almost wholly by association. Convenience, comfort, 
economy, health, education, even life itself, are all more or 
less under its stern control. This proves the dominancy of 
this attribute in the mental constitution. Let a particular 
dress, custom, style of living, become associated with high 
life,' and it is soon adopted by all classes as fashionable. 
When the lower orders have adopted it, it becomes vulgar 
with the higher, and they hasten to reject it for another. 
Thus fashion runs an eternal round, laying the bands of an iron 



ASSOCIATION. 213 

slavery on all who have not enough of good sense or philoso- 
phy to control their association of ideas. 



INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON TASTE AND GENERAL 
CHARACTER. 

Every day, every hour, is furnishing materials, around 
which our future thoughts are to cluster. Every idea now 
cherished, will become a nucleus to others ; every mental 
act, parent to a future progeny of mental acts. Thus the 
poetry that tells us the child is the father of the man, be- 
comes sober and earnest prose. While the mental associa- 
tions are young and partially formed, they are easily direct- 
ed ; but when they have become mature and full, they are 
as the great river formed of many streams. If reformation 
is attempted, success is partial ; all future life is a struggle 
to break the chain of early associations. 

Even in a mere literary view, the subject is important. 
Let two youths of equal talent enter upon literary pursuits, 
the one previously of grovelling, and the other of ele- 
vated habits of thought and conduct : — although equally 
industrious in their pursuits, the one will be ever pure, dig- 
nified, refined, in his thoughts, words, figures, — such will 
be the natural current of his mind ; — while the other will 
frequently oifend our taste with the vulgarity of his allusions 
and the coarseness of his expressions. His writings will pre- 
sent a strange medley of refinement and grossness, of splen- 
dor and vulgarity. The man of pure taste and true refine- 
ment, has been so formed from childhood by the influence of 
right associations. 



INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON MORALS. 

Many a youth has been led into immorality, vice, and 
ultimate ruin, by false associations. Let him once learn to 
associate idleness, extravagance, profanity, licentiousness, 
with high life and fashion ; let him associate austerity, 
gloom, bigotry, with strict morals, and the high way to his 



214 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ruin is already paved. Nothing short of a complete mental 
revolution can save him. 

In his Theory of Moral Sentiments, Adam Smith remarks, 
" In the reign of Charles II., a degree of licentiousness was 
deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was 
connected, according to the notions of those times, with gene- 
rosity, sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty ; and proved that the 
person who acted in this manner, was a gentleman, and not 
a puritan. Severity of manners, and regularity of conduct, 
on the other hand, were altogether unfashionable, and were 
connected, in the imagination of that age, with cant, cun- 
ning, hypocrisy, and low manners. To superficial minds, 
the vices of the great seem at all times agreeable. They 
connect them, not only with the splendor of fortune, but with 
many superior virtues which they ascribe to their superiors; 
with the spirit of freedom and independence ; with frank- 
ness, generosity, humanity, and politeness. The virtues of 
the inferior ranks of people, on the contrary, their parsimo- 
nious frugality, their painful industry, and rigid adherence 
to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They con- 
nect them both with the meanness of the station to which 
these stations commonly belong, and with many great vices 
which they suppose usually accompany them ; such as an 
abject, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering, disposition." 

The truth and importance of the above remarks cannot 
fail to commend themselves to every mind. To ail youth, and 
to all who have the charge of their education, they read a 
lesson of duty which cannot be mistaken. 

INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON RELIGION. 

The power of association, partially applied, has contributed 
largely to create a fatal prejudice in multitudes against 
Christianity. From the earliest ages, the Christian religion 
has been eminently the poor man's friend, and vast numbers 
from the humbler walks have lived and died, rejoicing in its 
blessings. " To the poor the gospel is preached" said 

* Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiment, quoted by Dugalcl Stewart, 
Vol. I., p. 216. 



ASSOCIATION. 215 

Christ, and the sacred writer informs us, that " the common 
people heard him gladly.'' 7 This circumstance gives to 
Christianity, in many minds, the aspect of vulgarity. 
Thoughtless minds, looking upon Lazarus in rags, and Dives 
in splendor, associating the one with irreligion, and the other 
with Christianity, would hardly fail to consider Christianity a 
mean and beggarly affair. But is it so ? Or has the Crea- 
tor given us this mental power to mislead us ? Far other- 
wise ; — the fault lies in the perverted use of it. Let the 
Christian be contemplated in all his relations — to God, to 
angels, to heaven, to eternity, as well as to time, — let Laz- 
arus be seen in Abraham's bosom, amid the riches and splen- 
dors of heaven's court, and Dives infinitely more abject and 
poor than Lazarus ever was, — let the despised exile in 
Patmos be viewed, not as a condemned criminal, but an 
honored servant of God, encircled with bright spirits, and 
held in special honor by heaven's nobility, — let all those 
early Christians, who toiled in poverty and reproach, be con- 
templated in the light of the benign work they accomplished 
— the mighty wave of blessings which rolled out from under 
their hands, and which continues to sweep downward, with 
ever swelling volumes, through all ages — while the worldly 
and the gay, w T ho rolled in wealth and splendor over them, 
have long since passed to utter oblivion, — and, if faith can 
look onward to the final judgment, and to the scenes that 
lie beyond, let impiety and irreligion be there seen in the re- 
lations assigned them by Christianity, — then let it be deter- 
mined to which side Association gives her aid. This power, 
like all others, was given us to be used; — and, like all 
others, when used aright, will not fail to do its part towards 
elevating us to the dignity and glory for which we were 
made. 

Here is an important particular in which man differs from 
the brute. The associations of the brute can extend only to 
what is seen and temporal; — those of man can penetrate that 
vast kingdom of moral interests and relations, whose centre 
is God, and whose throne is eternity. Let every pupil, 
who would aspire to a thorough education, throw his associa- 
tions far upward and onward, and shape his course for an 

ETERNAL LIFE. 



216 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVIII. 

What is said of our thoughts ? How may we define association ? Into 
what does Brown merge association % What is said of his view ? In- 
stances of association ? Have brutes association ? Give examples. What 
causes operate to control our associations ? The first cause without us ? 
Illustrations? The second? Illustrations? Third? Illustrations'? Fourth? 
Illustrations'? Fifth? Illustrations? Sixth? Illustrations? Seventh? 
Illustrations ? Eighth ? Illustrations ? What do we hence perceive ? 
Can we control our associations ? How ? Remark of Stewart ? Kaims ? 
What circumstances affect association? Around what do every man's 
associations gather with peculiar force ? Illustrations ? The principal 
reason why some are more inventive than others 7 Illustrations ? What 
is said of the influence of association on speculative judgment ? On love 
of money ? On fashion ? On taste and general character ? In a literary 
view? Of the influence of association on morals? Remark of Adam 
Smith ? On religion ? Remarks on this subject ? What must every 
pupil do, who would aspire to a thorough education ? 



CHAPTER XIX. 



MEMORY. 



We were not made to live merely in the present. In- 
deed, strictly speaking, all our experiences and observations 
relate to past time, the present being but a point. 

Memory may be briefly defined, the potver of recalling 
the past. It is by virtue of this, that we, as it were, live 
over and over the lives of our former days and former years. 
Memory has been supposed to denote two faculties, the 
capacity of retaining knowledge and the power of recalling 
it : * — the term memory being applied to the former, and 
recollection to the latter. In this view, we are said to com- 
mit to memory a poem, and keep it for use whenever we 
wish to call it up. Hence the poem may be said to be per- 
manently in our memory, but not in our recollection, except- 
ing when we choose to think of it. 

But, strictly speaking, the mind does not carry the thing 
remembered around with it, as in a vessel ; it is simply 
placed in such relation to it, or made so well acquainted 
with it, as to be able to recall it at pleasure. Capacity 
is a figure, implying a vessel which holds what we put in it. 
As memory is an active principle, we are in less danger of 
being misled, by divesting the definition of all figure bor- 
rowed from physical ideas, and considering it simply the 
power by which we recall the past. 

* " This faculty implies two things ; a capacity of retaining knowledge, 
and a power of recalling it to our thoughts, when we have occasion to 
apply it to use." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 224. 

19 



218 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



IS MEMORY AN ULTIMATE POWER? 

Some philosophers have not considered memory an ulti- 
mate power in the mental constitution, but a compound of 
conception and perception. Thus, every act of memory is 
supposed to be a conception of some object or event, attended 
with a perception of its relation to past time. Such is the 
view of Dugald Stewart, and it has been adopted by others.* 

Now Stewart maintains that " every act of conception is 
accompanied with a belief, that its object exists before us at 
the present moment." Here is a contradiction; inasmuch 
as the very idea of memory implies the absence of its object. 
The following is his solution : — " The only way that occurs 
to me of removing this difficulty, is, by supposing that the 
remembrance of a past event is not a simple act of the 
mind ; but that the mind first forms a conception of the 
event, then judges from circumstances of the period of time 
to which it is to be referred." f Memory may operate in 
this way sometimes, but does she always? How often, 
running back the track of time, with a view to recalling an 
event, does she light upon it as an event of the past ? — so 
that the event could not enter the mind, that is, be thought 
of, as a present, but only as a past event. Memory is a 
very free and active power ; she will not brook the tram- 
mels of a rigid philosophy. $ 

* " Our remembrances are nothing more than conceptions, united with 
the notion of a certain relation to time." Browns Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 412. 
" Memory is that power or susceptibility of the mind, by which those 
conceptions are originated, which are modified by a perception of the rela- 
tion of past time." UpJiarts Philosophy, p. 167. 

t Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 225. 

\ " Conception," says Stewart, " implies no idea of time whatever," Vol. 
I., p. 79. If then memory is made up of conception and perception, there 
remains no other theory of solution than the one given by him. Now I 
agree that conception alone implies no idea of time; but I consider 
mcmoi-y an ultimate mental power, which, by the aid of conception and other 
powers, directly recalls past events as such. 



MEMORY. 219 



REASONS FOR CONSIDERING MEMORY AN ULTIMATE POWER. 

1. Although conception and perception are in the service 
of memory, so also are attention, association, and other 
powers. All the mental powers are brought by the mind, 
more or less, into mutual service. The mind is itself a 
unit : — its ultimate powers are powers of one and the 
same unit to do, in various ways, certain classes of things. 
Memory is no more dependent on the other mental powers, 
than the others are on memory ; aDd as the services per- 
formed by memory are as characteristic and important as 
those which we ascribe to the other mental powers, it seems 
to claim a rank with them. 

2. The operations of memory are too multiform to be 
brought within the range of the restricted definition, to 
which I object. That we first put into operation one mental 
power and conceive of a past event, and then put on duty 
another power and determine its relation to the past, and 
that this is the uniform and only mode in which memory 
operates, is a theory too narrow to tally with human expe- 
rience. The theory originated among the early writers, as 
part of a system, and appears to have been handed along 
down to us, without having been seriously disputed. 

3. Stewart's method of defending this theory does not 
meet the difficulty. He explains it by the rapidity of our 
mental operations, placing them beyond our observation. 
But rapidity cannot change the order of things, although it 
may place them beyond our immediate notice. When a 
man in the country sets down to relate to his family the 
incidents of the fourth of July, which he witnessed the day 
before in the city, all minds first go back to the past day ; — 
past time is thought of; and it is thought of, not as a 
present, but as a past day. He begins and recalls incident 
after incident, every one of which is directly thought of as 
an incident of the past day. That he first thinks of those 
incidents as present realities, and then by a second act refers 
them to the day on which they happened, is reversing the 
real order. Instead of its being, first the incidents and 
then the day, it is first the day and then the incidents. It 



220 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

may be either way, and every way, according as the mind 
sets itself to work. As I have intimated, memory is a very 
free power, — she is limited to no one method of operation. 
Perhaps the above strictures may seem unimportant. 
They have not been made without feelings of reluctance at 
differing from such eminent authorities ; but it has appeared 
to me, that so important a power as memory, ought to be 
restored to its rank among the elemental faculties of the 
soul. Too many are inclined to think it a secondary and 
comparatively unimportant faculty. But it is one on which, 
pre-eminently, all the mental functions depend. Without 
it, we could live only in the present point : — all the past 
would lie eternally under the dark blot of oblivion. — Mental 
life would be but a series of perceptions and intuitions, flit- 
ting through and passing away, without leaving a trace of 
themselves behind. Letters written by the finger upon 
water, would be as enduring as impressions made upon the 
human mind. Of course, all the mental powers would be 
at a stand, and man would be the mere creature and sport 
of the present moment. 



MEMOEY IN BRUTES. 

So important is this power, even to life itself, that it is 
bestowed on the brute creation, in common with man. It is 
certain that brutes remember, although it might be difficult 
to show that they first conceive of a past event as a present 
reality, and then perceive its relation to past time. Bereaved 
kine remember their offspring, and often mourn for weeks 
on being bereaved of them. If they did not remember, they 
would cease to mourn. The dog remembers his master; 
years of absence do not avail to sunder the cords which bind 
this faithful servant to the man who reared and caressed him. 
The horse remembers his keeper, the place where he was 
fed, where he fell, where he was frightened. 

Some^ have attempted to resolve all these into mere 
recognitions. On this theory, the absent object is not 
thought of, but only recognized, when returned. But this 
does not account for the signs of bereavement and sorrow. 



MEMORY. 221 

If the absent object were not thought of, it could not pro- 
duce these effects. Moreover, the trained animal remem- 
bers the smart of the lash, and hence takes precaution to 
avoid its return. If it were a mere recognition, he could 
not be trained ; since fear, in this case, implies memory. 
It is on the power of memory that we rely, in the training 
of all our domestic animals. 



MEMORY UNIVERSAL. 

The existence of memory is clearly marked in every 
human being, from the dawn of intellect. It is also pos- 
sessed in more equal measure, than is usually supposed. 
Mankind generally do or may remember all that is essential 
to their well-being. The events of former days, months, 
years ; the course of their past lives ; the histories of men 
and nations of other times, which they have read ; are all 
remembered with great accuracy. Probably every individual 
of the thousands who served in the revolutionary war, could 
relate, at any subsequent period of a long life, all the cam- 
paigns, battles, victories, and various important incidents, 
of which he was witness. Scarcely less perfect is our recol- 
lection of events of which we have read, provided we were 
interested in them. Who that has read the History of 
Napoleon's expedition into Russia, has ever forgotten it ? 
It is a quarter of a century since I read that eventful tra- 
gedy, and its thrilling incidents are nearly as vivid in my 
recollection now, as at the first month after the book was 
read. And this is the common experience. Not one in a 
thousand, who ever read that history, will ever forget it. 
Memory is then a faculty possessed in almost equal measure 
by all men. Its inequalities are like those of the earth's 
surface, which, though they seem great to the superficial 
observer, are small compared with the entire depth of the 
globe. 

19* 



222 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING MEMORY. 

Still, there are inequalities of memory. Some men re- 
member better than others. The difference, however, is 
more in kind than degree. One man's memory is quick ; — 
another's is slow. The memory of one is general ; that of 
another minute. One man is famous for remembering names, 
dates, localities. Another scarcely remembers these at all, 
but remembers all the important facts connected with 
them. 

Every man's memory varies with the periods of his life 
and states of his physical system. Causes affecting memory 
may be included in the following particulars. 

1. Constitutional temperament. Some are constitu- 
tionally quick in all things. They attend, perceive, asso- 
ciate, compare, and judge, quickly. Their eyes flash like 
the electric fire, and are the index of their thoughts. Both 
their phsyical and mental movements are full of nerve : — 
they step quick ; they think quick. Their memory is of 
course in keeping. Others are, in all these particulars, 
constitutionally slow. But, although their memories, like 
their other powers, are slower in operating than those of the 
other class, they are no less comprehensive, exact, retentive. 
They only require more time. 

2. Habits of attention. One person, on returning 
from church, can repeat the heads, arguments, inferences, 
and most striking thoughts, of the sermon which he heard ; 
while another remembers little else than the preacher's man- 
ner, voice, gestures. Without adverting here to other 
causes, it is sufficient to say, that the attention of the one 
was directed to the manner ; that of the other, to the mat- 
ter. It is by a fixed attention that the mind obtains a firm 
and enduring embrace of its subject. What was said under 
the head of Perception, must here again be called to mind. 
As the mind does not embrace all the points of an object at 
once, it is only by a fixed attention that sufficient fulness of 
perception is obtained, to secure to the memory a permanent 
hold. 

Two men ride out together on a summer's morning, to en- 



MEMORY. 223 

joy a country scene. On returning, the one is able to recall 
the features of that scene: every hill, dale, grove, cot- 
tage ; the frowning rock, the deep ravine ; the meandering 
stream, and the waving corn in the valleys ; the cattle 
grazing on the slopes, and the men gathering the harvest ; 
the gardens, orchards, fruits, flowers, — are all so imprinted 
on his memory, that he needs only a painter's hand to pic- 
ture them exactly on canvas. His companion has only the 
general recollection of a very pleasant ride through a very 
pleasant country. The one attended, the other did not 
attend, to what was passing before their eyes as they rode 
along. 

3. Habits of philosophic arrangement. When a 
mind has formed the habit of associating things together in 
the relations of cause and effect, genus and. species, the 
whole and its parts, the container and the contained, mem- 
ory is far more comprehensive and retentive, than when she 
deals in mere details. This is called philosophical memory. 
Apply it, for example, to the study of geography. The 
object is so to learn as to remember the most important facts. 
Suppose the learner first ascertains the natural productions 
of a given temperature, and the temperature embraced 
between given latitudes. He has then only to learn the 
latitude of a country, in order to know, with considerable 
exactness, all its varieties of animals, birds, insects ; all its 
numerous grains and vegetables ; its probable exports and 
imports: he is much assisted in determining the general 
character and habits of the people, the prevalent diseases of 
the country, &c. Having ascertained that elevation affects 
climate, like higher degrees of latitude, he perceives that 
Mexico, and other mountainous countries of the tropics, 
must furnish the productions of both warm and cold climates. 

With such helps, it is easy to remember. The truth is, 
there is little left for memory to do. The mind is furnished 
with a priori knowledge. The work is in a great measure 
taken from memory, and given to the associations and deduc- 
tions of philosophical thinking. The same method of assist- 
ing memory may be extended to nearly or quite all studies, 
and every wise teacher will encourage it. 

4. Habits of detail. Whether there is really so much 



224 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

difference between this kind of memory and the preceding, 
as is generally supposed, may be doubted. All men are 
philosophers, in their way. The chief difference between 
them is, that while some associate by the set rules of science, 
others, not conversant with these rules, associate things and 
remember by rules of their own devising. Men of the 
merest detail have their associations of ideas, by which they 
are enabled to remember. But their associations being 
more obvious and less comprehensive than those of philo- 
sophical minds, their memories are of course more conver- 
sant with details, than with classes of facts. These are 
called circumstantial memories. The term is very expressive 
of the thing meant. Circumstantial denotes the things or 
events that stand around. Memory is here dependent on 
what happens to stand directly around what is remembered, 
rather than by any scientific arrangement of ideas. 

I knew a stage-coach driver, who had for many years 
done errands in Boston, for people living on his route 
through the country. The fidelity with which he uniformly 
executed his commissions, had procured him an extensive 
business. After discharging his passengers at the hotel, 
he would drive around into various parts of the city, thread 
numerous alleys and by-ways, attend to some twenty or 
thirty commissions at as many places, and then return to 
the hotel, having with great exactness performed all that 
was assigned him. Yet he used no paper, and kept no visi- 
ble record of any kind. 

Curious to know how this was done, the common privilege 
of our country was indulged. He replied, that when he 
began he had but one or two errands. As his business 
increased, his power of memory increased ; so that he could 
now as easily remember thirty errands, as at first he could 
five. He had formed the habit of so associating every 
errand, and whatever was peculiar in it, with the name of 
the family, the name and number of the street to which it 
belonged, and he so strung them all together in his mind, that 
he knew the precise route to take. The doing of the first 
errand suggested the next, and that the next, and so on, 
until the whole was completed. This is circumstantial 
memory, resulting from careful habits of detail. It has its 



MEMORY. 225 

value. In some callings, success depends almost absolutely 
upon it. 

5. Vocation. Every person best remembers things con- 
nected ivith his own vocation. This is because he is best 
acquainted with them, and most interested in them. Those 
things in which we are most interested fix our attention 
most, and are therefore best remembered. When a student 
visits a foreign library, he ever afterwards remembers various 
books there, which the ordinary visitor scarcely remembers 
beyond the threshold of the building. A lady conversant 
with the fashionable toilette remembers all the particulars 
of a distinguished belle's dress at a ball ; while most of the 
gentlemen present, with memories not inferior to hers, recol- 
lect very little about it. The memory of an epicure is very 
retentive of the various wines and dishes of an entertain- 
ment ; while the man of literary or philosophical pursuits, 
remembers only the interesting topics of conversation con- 
nected with his studies.* This may be called professional 
memory, — that is, memory as modified by a man's pursuits. 

6. Age. All have observed the failure of memory with 
the advance of old age. Ordinarily, it begins to serve less 
faithfully near the age of fifty, and becomes gradually im- 
paired as years pass over. There is also a difference as to 
the things remembered. In youth, memory is more casual, 
clinging most tenaciously to incidents which happen to 
interest, however unimportant. At a later period, it be- 
comes more judicious, selecting the more important things, 
and being more methodical. 

The failure of memory, as age advances, is owing mostly 
to physical causes. Passion, the handmaid of memory, is 
enfeebled through loss of the sap of life ; hence, things being 
regarded with less feeling, they are more readily forgotten. 

Some philosophers have supposed, as a cause of the fail- 
ing of memory, a derangement or partial loss of the power 

*" A person who has not been accustomed to attend particularly to 
horses or cattle, may study for a considerable time the appearance of a 
horse or of a bullock, without being able, a few days afterwards, to pro- 
nounce on his identity ; while a horse-dealer or a grazier recollects many 
hundreds of that class of animals with which he is conversant, as perfectly 
as he does the faces of his acquaintances." Steivart's Philosophy, Vol. I., 
p. 227. 



226 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of association. But this is a gratuitous supposition, since the 
fact is sufficiently accounted for by the single cause above 
noticed. Morever, the fact that very aged people remem- 
ber so minutely the events of childhood, is evidence that 
their association is still vigorous. 

7. Disease. The effects of disease upon memory are 
very marked ; sometimes extraordinary. The most curious 
fact is, that the same disease sometimes quickens and some- 
times suspends its functions. This is doubtless owing to the 
different effects of congestion, withdrawing the vital force 
from the organs more especially concerned with memory, or 
concentrating it upon them. So that although it may be 
technically the same disease in both cases, it differs in de- 
gree and in respect to the point of concentration. A cer- 
tain degree of congestion may quicken memory ; another 
degree may suspend its functions ; just as a certain quan- 
tity of alcohol exhilarates, and that quantity increased pro- 
duces torpor and even death. 

On arising from severe sickness, men have frequently 
been alarmed at the failure of their memories. Students 
have forgotten their languages, their mathematics, their 
history ; men of business have forgotten the details of their 
affairs, and scarcely knew how to proceed or where to begin. 
The same persons, while the exhilaration of the fever was 
on, betrayed symptoms of extraordinary memory in all these 
particulars. The lessons of boyhood, long neglected, are 
revived and repeated with extraordinary fluency and exact- 
ness. By a natural law of reaction, when the undue ex- 
citement is over, a proportionate torpor succeeds. As much 
as the powers of memory were before above their natural 
level, so much are they now beloiv it. Gradually, however, 
as health and strength return, does memory rise to her 
true position and resume her appropriate functions. 



characteristics of a good memory. 

As men have ordinarily memory enough, a good memory 
is rather a term of quality than of quantity. Many have 
the unenviable habit of remembering much that ought 



QUESTIONS. 227 

to be forgotten, and of forgetting much that ought to be re- 
membered. The memory should be trained to sever the 
wheat from the chaff, and to store up healthful food for the 
future nourishment of the mind. He who is at no pains to 
direct the memory, but allows it to run at large, remembers 
as much, perhaps, as he who carefully trains it ; but the one 
grows up a simpleton, the other a wise man. The memory of 
the one stores the mind with treasures of valuable knowledge ; 
that of the other fills it with a world of nonsense. The 
conditions of a good memory then, are, to be susceptible to 
what ought to be remembered, to be retentive of it, and to 
have it at ready command. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIX. 

What is memory ? What has it been supposed ? What is strictly true ? 
What have some considered memory? What does Stewart maintain'? 
Eeply ? What is his solution? Does memory always operate thus ? Re- 
mark ? Are not other powers, besides conception and perception, in the 
service of memory ? Remarks ? What is said, secondly, of the operations 
of memory ? How does Stewart attempt to explain the difficulties of his 
theory ? What is said in reply ? Illustration ? Apology for the above 
strictures ? Have brutes memory ? What might be difficult to show ? 
Examples of brute memory ? Into what have some attempted to resolve 
all these * Reply ? What is said of the universality of memory ? Re- 
marks ? What is said of events of which we have read ? Are there ine- 
qualities of memory ? In what do they mainly consist ? Illustrate. First 
cause affecting memory ? Remarks ? Second cause ? Give examples. 
What is said of attention ? Illustration ? Third source ? What is called 
philosophical memory? Give the example. Advantage of such helps? 
Fourth source ? What is said of all men ? What is the chief difference 
between them ? What are circumstantial memories ? What is said of the 
term ? Give the example. Fifth source ? How explained ? Examples ? 
Sixth source? What have all observed? Difference as to the things 
remembered ? To what is the failure of memory in old age owing ? 
What have some philosophers supposed ? Reply ? Seventh source ? 
Remarks ? What is said of the characteristics of a good memory ? 



CHAPTER XX. 



MEMORY CONTINUED. 



CULTURE OF MEMORY, 



Special and direct efforts to strengthen the memory are 
of little value. Like all the other mental powers, it is 
strengthened by being appropriately exercised upon its 
appropriate objects. All artificial rules, all machinery, all 
exercises of memory, for the express purpose of strengthen- 
ing it, are rather injurious than beneficial. They place the 
mind in a false position. If we suitably apply our mental 
powers to their appropriate objects, they will grow with 
sufficient rapidity and in due proportion. 



EARLY CULTURE OF MEMORY. 

The first object in childhood, is, to direct the attention 
to things which ought to be remembered, — things of future 
value. Childhood is the age to learn spelling and reading ; 
to learn to associate letters and words with the sounds they 
represent. Not only are the organs of speech then most 
flexible, but the mind is best qualified to operate in that 
small and circumstantial way, by which letter after letter 
and word after word becomes forever associated with its 
sound. 

At the same age, much that is of prospective value may 
be committed to memory, although the mind is not yet capa- 
ble of fully understanding it. Some dispute this, and con- 



MEMORY. 229 

tend that children should learn nothing but what they under- 
stand. But the laws of mental progress are against this 
theory, and facts condemn it. Memory is developed before 
the reasoning power, that she may lay up materials for it 
to work" upon when it comes into service. 

Those early lessons, those grammatical rules, those por- 
tions of the Sacred Scriptures, those hymns, those maxims 
of wisdom, those details of geography, chronology, arithme- 
tic, committed to memory before we were able fully to 
understand their meaning, we find of great and ever growing 
value as we advance in life. The attention of childhood 
should also be called to the most important facts in nature. 
Some of the first lessons in natural history, botany, geology, 
ornithology, serve to form a taste for these studies, and to 
lay the foundation for future success in them. And one 
thing is certain, — if childhood does not learn these things, 
it will learn something else. Memory will work, to store 
the mind with something, either valuable or useless. 



SUBSEQUENT CULTURE OF MEMORY. 

As the mind matures, memory should take a more system- 
atic and philosophical course. Nature suggests this; for 
now the reasoning powers come into alliance with memory, 
to guide her associations and direct her course. She has 
hitherto dealt mostly with details ; she is now to remember 
in groups and classes, and by more remote associations. If 
she could once better recall the numerous pretty flowers 
seen in a ramble, she can now better recall the several 
genera and species to which they belong, and their scientific 
relation to the great family of which they are members. 
Hitherto she has been mostly conversant with words and 
signs ; she has now to do with the realities signified. If 
she could once more easily learn to repeat a chapter, she 
can now more easily learn to recall its meaning. She is 
perpetually working her way beneath the surface, and in 
every direction, whither philosophical associations conduct 
her. 

20 



230 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Such is the course, where memory is rightly cultivated ; 
and this makes the difference between being always a child, 
and ascending from that state to intellectual manhood. 
Thus the mind not only advances broadly in knowledge, in- 
stead of bounding over a single track, but she puts- all her 
knowledge on duty, to trace out new relations, and to discover 
for it new uses. The growth of the mind in valuable knowl- 
edge, depends not so much on the number of new individual 
facts acquired and remembered, as on the number, extent, 
and value, of their perceived relations.* 

The failure of memory in regard to details, as age ad- 
vances, may on the whole be regarded as a blessing ; it 
harmonizes with the laws of mental growth, and seems a 
necessary condition of those more philosophic and compre- 
hensive modes of thinking, which characterize maturity of 
intellect. 

CONFIRMING^ THE MEMORY. 

Still, a vast store of details, as well as of classes of facts, 
must be at command through life, or the judgment will 
suffer ; since a sound judgment is exercised in view of facts. 
But if childhood and youth have taken the course above 
indicated, little difficulty will be realized in permanently 
securing whatever needs to be remembered. The lessons 
that childhood has imprinted a thousand times, will never be 
fully effaced ; what is subsequently acquired would be more 
easily^ forgotten, but for those habits of philosophical arrange- 
ment" to which we have adverted. At the same time, fre- 
quent recalling at this age, should take the place of frequent 
repeating in childhood. 

* Maclaurin justly remarks, " New knowledge does not consist so much 
in our having access to a new object, as in comparing it with others 
already known, observing its relations to them, or discerning what it has 
in common with them, and wherein their disparity consists ; and therefore 
our knowledge is vastly greater than the sum of what all its objects sepa- 
rately could afford ; and when a new object comes within our reach, the 
addition to our knowledge is greater, the more we already know ; so that 
it increases, not as the new objects increase, but in a much higher propor- 
tion." Conclusion of " Views of Newton's Discoveries" See also /Stewart's 
Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 240. 



MEMORY. 231 

The rules here to be observed are: First. Give the 
closest possible attention to what you would remember; 
secondly, reduce it to system, and fasten it in the mind by 
as many philosophical associations as possible ; thirdly, fre- 
quently recall it, and reflect upon it. What is thus learned 
will never be forgotten. Whether it be history, language, 
science, law, theology, or any thing else, the mind will be 
able to recall and use it, so long as reason is on the throne. 
By this means, the judge on the bench, at the age of sixty- 
five, may give as sound judgment, in view of the facts in 
law studied at an early age, as at any previous period. 

The importance of reducing to system, and of accurately 
classifying what we learn, cannot be too much urged. This 
well done, saves the necessity of much recalling. The mind 
can hardly help remembering what is thus framed into it, 
and is made, as it were, part and parcel of its own being. 
The mechanic, who has always been accustomed to have a 
place for every thing and every thing in its place, will 
always find his tools at command. So the student, in every 
calling and profession, by systematic arrangement of his 
materials of thought, will be able at any time to call them 
into service. 



COMMITTING TO PAPER. 

He who would have both a ready and retentive memory, 
should rely as little as possible upon the pen. Memory 
loves to be trusted, and will pay large interest on what she 
receives. The practice of taking notes on the spot, can 
hardly fail to weaken her powers. It is taking her work 
out of her hands. But there is a limit, beyond which she 
cannot go, without assistance. At this limit, the pen may 
come to aid her. Notes of a sermon, for instance, should 
not be taken at church ; but after returning home, it is well 
to write down the heads and most important thoughts in 
connection with them. This will serve to imprint them 
more deeply on the mind. 

So in studying history. After reading and reflecting 
upon the contents of a volume, it is well to write out, from 



232 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

memory, a synopsis of its contents. This synopsis may be 
subsequently used to assist the mind in recalling the historic 
facts.* 

There are other cases in which the pen must be used, or 
the memory will be over-tasked. In an interview with the 
late Noah Webster, the distinguished lexicographer, I asked 
him how much reliance he placed upon his memory in regard 
to the origin and the etymological and current import of 
words. He replied, " None at all; I rely wholly on the 
pen." In a case where so many particulars must be noted 
with exactness, entire reliance on memory is demanding of 
her too much. Dr. Webster complained, however, that he 
had a bad memory. The reader will perceive that this is 
accounted for, by what has been said above. His necessary 
reliance on the pen, as a lexicographer, for a long series of 
years, would unavoidably render it difficult to retain any 
thing without that aid. 



ARTIFICIAL MEMORY. 

Artificial memory is secured by combining things easily 
remembered, with those not easily remembered. In this 
way, we recall the latter by the aid of the former. Sup- 
pose we wish to remember a man's name. Standing apart 
from all associations, it is not easily retained. But if it 
happen to be the name of some person, place, or object, with 
which we are acquainted, association enables us to remem- 
ber it with ease. Or suppose we wish to remember a date. 
If we can associate it with some other date, or with some 
name familiar to us, if the association holds firm, the date 
is remembered. These, however, are the simple artifices, 
and do not differ much from the ordinary associations. 

Systems of more artificial memory, involving considerable 
machinery, have been invented by Mr. Gray, of Europe, 

* The writer went through Rollin's Ancient History in this way, during 
a college vacation, and no portion of his reading in history has been more 
accurately remembered. The same course was subsequently taken with 
Hume's History of England, and is recommended to all students. 



MEMORY. 233 

and Mr. Johnson, of this country. They are called Memo- 
ria Technica, and have found considerable favor. Several 
distinguished men have used them, as they inform us, to 
advantage.* But whetheflrthe effect upon the mind, of 
training it to such strange and artificial associations, is on 
the whole beneficial, is with some reason doubted. Some 
minds have a propensity to strange, unnatural, ridiculous 
combinations. It is questionable how far this should be 
indulged. 

It has been remarked above, that system and order aid 
memory. Sometimes the very opposite, by its extreme 
oddity, has the same effect. Whatever strikes the mind 
forcibly, even though it be the novelty of confusion itself, 
may help us to remember. In illustration of the importance 
of order to aid the memory, Prof. Upham states the follow- 
ing fact : — "A person was one day boasting, in the pre- 
sence of Foote the comedian, of the wonderful facility with 
which he could commit any thing to memory, when the 
modern Aristophanes said he would write down a dozen 
lines in prose which he could not commit to memory in as 
many minutes. The man of great memory accepted the 
challenge ; a wager was laid, and Foote produced the fol- 
lowing. " So she went into the garden, to cut a cabbage- 
leaf to make an apple-pie ; and at the same time a great 
she-bear coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. 
What, no soap ? So he died, and she very imprudently 
married the barber ; and there were present the Picininnies, 
and the Joblillies, and the Gargulies, and the grand Pany- 
andrum himself, with the little round button at the top ; 
and they all fell to playing catch as catch can, till the gun- 
powder ran out of the heels of their boots." Mr. Upham 
remarks, — " The story adds, that Foote won the wager. 
And it is very evident that statements of this description, 
utterly disregarding the order of nature and events, must 
defy, if carried to any great length, the strongest memory. "f 
To test this, I put some of the young ladies of my school on 

* Mr. Johnson exercised a class in his system, in a school of young 
ladies in Boston under my charge, and the examination, in the judgment 
of competent gentlemen, demonstrated the success of his system. 

t Upham's Philosophy, p. 179. 

20* 



234 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

trial, and in less than ten minutes, two of them repeated the 
whole, verbatim ; thus beating " the man of great memory " 
himself, and proving the sayin^that there are points where 
extremes meet. 



RELATION OF MEMORY TO RELIGION. 

The relation of memory to the Christian religion, although 
of the highest importance, is too obvious to require much 
notice. It was by virtue of this, that Christianity itself was 
handed down to us ; it is by virtue of this, that all our past 
observation and experience of its benign influences, are now 
available ; it will in eternity be by virtue of the same, that 
the deeds of the present life will send down their record 
through those ceaseless ages. 

Memory is a ground of belief, not less imperative than 
the absolute knowledge of present realities. Indeed, in the 
strictest sense, all knowledge depends upon it ; for the pre- 
sent is but a point, and all behind it depends on memory. 
Nor, if the memory be good, does it matter whether the 
remembered event took place a week, a year, or five years 
before. Criminals are condemned and executed, on testi- 
mony running back ten and even twenty years, provided 
the case is clear. And when we consider that the sacred 
historians wrote of things in which they were deeply inter- 
ested, and under the influence of an inspiration which was 
vouchsafed to " bring all things to their remembrance," we 
ought to repose the same confidence in their narrations, pro- 
vided they were honest and competent men, as in the sub- 
jects of our personal knowledge. 

It is memory, also, that brings to us our own history, as 
individual subjects of this gracious religion. Our past sins, 
conflicts, victories, hopes, repentings, joys, promises — all 
that renders the past a means of guidance and impulse in 
our future course towards the " prize of our high calling," 
depends on memory. " Thou shalt remember all the way 
in which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in 
the wilderness, to prove what is in thy heart, whether thou 
wilt keep his commandments." 



MEMORY. 235 

Memory, also, -will connect time -with eternity ; being 
one of the constitutional powers of the soul, any question of 
its eternal duration cannot be philosophically raised. The 
immortality of the soul implies the immortality of its essen- 
tial attributes. Take away memory, and the soul is no 
longer a rational being. If memory is made up of percep- 
tion and conception, as some think, then, so long as the soul 
can perceive and conceive, she can remember ; if it be an 
ultimate constitutional power, as I incline to think it is, it 
holds a place with the other constitutional powers of the soul, 
and will perish only with them and with the soul itself. If 
the question be, How long shall we remember ? — the an- 
swer naturally is, so long as we have the power, — which 
brings us to the same point. If the question be, How much 
shall we remember? — there may be ground of doubt. It 
does not seem to be the province of philosophy to settle this 
point. 

In the light of Christianity, we are led to conclude, that 
we shall in eternity remember all the deeds and events of 
this life, having a moral bearing. The fact that we seem 
now to have forgotten many of our right or wrong actions, 
does not militate against this conclusion ; for there is a 
mighty power in pressing emergencies, especially in moments 
of alarm, to lift the veil of oblivion and bring up long forgot- 
ten deeds. At such moments, events of by-gone years have 
rushed with lightning- wing upon the mind. In this view, 
past forgotten deeds have been compared to letters written 
with sympathetic ink upon a sheet of white paper ; they are 
not seen, until the paper is held to the fire, and that potent 
agent brings the colors out. We have reason to believe, 
that the awful scenes of the judgment-day will not fail to 
put memory on duty, and bid her call up the entire record 
of our moral doings in this life. " Son, remember," are 
words once addressed to a spirit from this world in eternity. 
Thus philosophy and Christianity combine to admonish us, 
to do nothing which ive could ivish to forget, and to fill up 
life ivith as many as possible of those deeds which it will 

BE OUR ETERNAL JOY TO REMEMBER. 



236 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XX. 

What is said of the culture of memory ? What is the first object in 
childhood 1 Eemarks ? What is said of committing to memory things 
of prospective value ? What do some contend ? Reply ? Particulars ? 
What should memory do as the mind matures ? Remarks ? What is the 
course of the mind, when rightly cultivated ? What is said of the failure 
of memory in regard to details ? Remarks on confirming the memory? 
First rule? Second? Third? What is said of the importance of system, 
&c. ? Of committing to paper ? Instance ? Studying history ? Noah 
Webster ? What is said of artificial memory ? What of the opposite of 
order ? Instance ? What is said of the relation of memory to religion ? 
Of memory as a ground of belief? Illustrate. Of memory as related to 
our own history ? As connecting time with eternity ? In the light of 
Christianity, what are we led to conclude ? Remarks ? What have we 
reason to believe ? What do philosophy and Christianity combine to 
admonish us ? 



PART III. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN 
INTELLECT. 

Among the pretending illuminators of mankind, is a class 
of speculating philosophers, referred to in preceding pages, 
■who tell us there is no difference, in kind, between the intel- 
lect of man and that of a brute. They maintain that the 
difference is merely in degree, not in hind; and in the 
way of illustration they inform us, that the disparity is great- 
er between the intellect of a lobster and that of a horse, than 
between the intellect of a horse and that of a man. How 
they have been enabled to take the precise gauge and dimen- 
sions of the lobster's intellect, and to demonstrate the points 
of distinction between it and that of the horse, they have not 
told us ; but by denying all difference in kind, and main- 
taining only a chain of degrees, running from the lowest 
order of sentient creatures up to man, they have not wanted 
zeal in attempting to show, that man is not the fallen image 
of God, but the exalted image of a lobster. 



CHAIN OF DEGREES. 

There is indeed a chain of degrees. Nature seems to 
avoid, so far as possible, violent transitions. The passages 



238 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

from the mineral to the vegetable, from the vegetable to the 
animal, from the animal to the rational,* are made as gently 
as the case admits. But then the passages are really 
made. The vegetable is more than the mineral, the animal 
is more than the vegetable, and a rational mind is more than 
an animal. Nor, in the regular course of nature, are there 
any intervening non-descripts between the great kingdoms 
and classes of being. Where any thing like these occurs, 
it is the result of some violation of nature's laws ; an acci- 
dent, which soon vanishes. Such apparent caprices are 
no more to be cited as illustrations of the steady and undevi- 
ating course of nature, than the accidental ripples on the 
surface of a river, of the course of the stream. The specu- 
lations of philosophers, drawn from supposed examples of 
hybridous life, are thoroughly unphilosophical, and betray as 
much ignorance of physiology, as of the true principles of 
inductive logic, f 

* " The simplest combination of animal life, where sensation first mani- 
fests itself in matter, is found in miues, where, ' unmolested by winds, or 
changing temperature, infusoria or molds covers the damp wall.' The 
proper element of infusoria, or mold, is albumen which they receive from 
the mineral body to which they adhere ; the mineral being the matrix of 
the mold. Its delicate tissue is composed chiefly of nitre, eighty-five per 
cent, of which is oxygen ; it has a feeble circulation, with little or no sen- 
sation." — " Sensation, circulation, and voluntary motion, are the second 
simplest combination of sensation with matter." Sensational Physiology — 
Laws of Causation, p. 102. 

t " Experiments have rendered it certain, that hybridity in animals results 
from the absence of a proper degree of sensible heat. The mule that haa 
hitherto been regarded as a hybrid, is so only from accidental circum- 
stances. Prevost and Dumas, in repeating the experiments of Lewen- 
hoeck, have discovered the hybridity of mules in northern climates to be 
caused by the absence of spermatic animalcules ; while these being present 
in the mules of hot climates, explain the phenomena of reproduction." 
In this example, the law defines its degrees so clearly, as to give us all the 
particulars — namely, that in northern climates, sensation is unfelt in the 
spermatic vessels by the hybrid, and reproduction is impossible ; whereas 
a hot climate, in establishing the necessary degree of heat, produces the 
necessary supply of circulating fluid, whereby sensation in the spermatic 
vessels of the hybrid is developed, and the animal resumes its place in the 
laws of causation, by becoming reproductive. Thus I have bridged over 
the chasm that has hitherto been leaped, and connected mineral, vegetable, 
and animal life, by the chain of causation." Ibid. — Sensational Physiology, 
p. 104. 



DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 239 



WHEREIN- MEN AND BRUTES ARE ALIKE. 

In respect to animal life, man commences, in many res- 
pects, as low as the brute, and even lower. No brute ani- 
mals at birth, and for months after, are as helpless as human 
infancy, or certainly not more so. It has been well re- 
marked, that man steps below brutes at his origin, as if to 
prepare for the great leap with which he is to pass them. We 
have followed man with the brute through the various sensa- 
tions, which they hold in common ; and have also indicated 
those powers in man, of which the brute seems, in some de- 
gree, to participate. We have seen, however, that these 
powers are in man associated with other powers, lifting them 
into a sphere of activity immeasurably higher than ever 
falls to the range of brute intellect. We are in subse- 
quent pages to contemplate those other, those distinguishing 
powers. 

Our knowledge of brute mind is mostly negative. I pro- 
pose to show, that there are certain powers of the human 
intellect, demonstrable by experience and observation, of 
which we have not a shadow of evidence that they pertain to 
brute intellect ; and that they differ from every development 
of brute mind, not only in degree, but in kind. 



THE DOMINION OF MAN. 

There was science as well as poetry in what the royal 
minstrel flung from his harp, when he sung of man : " Thou 
hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast 
crowned him with glory and honor ; thou hast made him to 
have dominion over all the works of thy hands ; thou hast 
put all things under him." The Septuagint reads, Thou 
hast made him a little lower than Elohem, — that is, a little 
lower than God, or as God in miniature. And how like his 
Creator, is man, in his dominion over the world ! Over all 
these vast mineral, vegetable, animal kingdoms, he holds 
lordly dominion ; over them all, he has such power and 
control, that there is no imaginable form of strength, utility, 



240 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

or beauty, to which he cannot subdue the mountain rocks 
no quality or condition grateful to the taste, nutritious to the 
body, or pleasing to the eye, to which he cannot bring the 
wild vegetable creation ; and no purpose of convenience, 
labor, or recreation, to which he cannot make the animal 
tribes subservient. 



IN WHAT MAN'S POWER OF DOMINION CONSISTS. 

The power of man over the lower creation results partly 
from his superior physical organization, particularly that of 
his hand — his most distinctive physical characteristic — but 
more especially from the superior endowments of his mind, 
It is not the want of speech, that holds the brute creation in 
relative abjectness ; for brutes have language, as well as men, 
and that adequate to express all they know. That it is 
neither the cunning of the hand, nor the peculiar organs of 
speech, that distinguish man from the brute, as some affirm, 
is evident from the fact that a human being without hands, 
and dumb from his birth, has developed all the distinguish- 
ing properties of the human intellect. 

If we speak of physical strength, what is the power of 
man compared with those vast mountains of rock, which sink 
to plains before him, — compared with those huge structures 
and massive columns of architecture, which tower under his 
little hands to the skies ? — What is the puny arm of man, 
compared with the mighty forests, the wildernesses of stately 
cedars and majestic oaks, which recede from his presence, 
and by his magic touch give place to smiling and verdant 
fields ? — What but a feeble speck is man, on the great 
ocean, whose proud swelling waves, angry billows, and 
furious tempests, he fearlessly encounters? What is the 
strength of man, compared with that of the ox, the horse, 
the elephant, which he so readily subjects to the yoke of his 
dominion ? 

How then is man enabled to maintain this dominion over 
the world ? The only philosophical answer is, by the supe- 
rior powers of his mind. It is because he knows how. By 
virtue of superior intellectual endowments, he is enabled to 



DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 241 

apprehend means of appropriating all the laws and powers of 
nature to his use, thus making them to become, as it were, 
his own sinews and muscles, guided by his wisdom, and 
obedient to his will. 



LIKENESS OF THE HUMAN TO THE DIVINE INTELLECT. 

Let us notice, in this respect, the striking resemblance of 
the human mind to That, in whose image* it was created. 
When we look upon the four great kingdoms of nature, — 
the mineral, the vegetable, the animal, the mental, — upon 
the globe itself, which we inhabit, and the shining worlds 
around us ; upon the boundless varieties of created beauty 
in the plants, the flowers, the trees of the forest ; upon the 
numberless surpassing wonders of animal organization ; upon 
the more wonderful creation and endowments of human intel- 
lect ; and finally, upon the most sublime and glorious of all 
objects in creation; the moral government divinely estab- 
lished and maintained over the universe ; and then when 
we consider that all this was conceived, planned, accom- 
plished, by the mind of God, we are compelled to exclaim, 
How amazing the power of that mind ! 

And in addition to the inherent powers of his personal 
mind, he employs all his works as instruments of his will. He 
makes certain things means of accomplishing others, and 
these again means of accomplishing others ; the number ever 
rising in an infinite progression. Thus all matter, all created 
beings, all the laws and operations of nature, from motes to 
worlds, and from worlds to systems of worlds, become as 
it were his own bones and sinews, by which he executes the 
lofty and all-embracing purposes of his mind. Hence, they 
are variously termed his instruments, his vehicles, his minis- 
tering agents. In the bold and beautiful figure of the sa- 
cred writers, he makes the forked lightnings his arrows, the 
clouds his chariots, and the winds his angels. 

* " And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and 
let them have dominion over thejish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and 
over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth 
upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created 
he him: male and female created he them" Genesis i., 26-27. 

21 



242 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Now all this is similar to what man does, on the smaller 
scale. When we look upon the various fabrics of strength 
and beauty which clothe our persons ; when we see the dark 
and gloomy desert giving place to cultivated fields, laughing 
with golden harvest ; when we behold the magnificent houses, 
temples, cities, which man has reared ; when our enchanted 
eyes glance at the fire-sped car, thundering on its iron track, 
as with lightning-wing ; when we behold an highway for 
nations thrown across the oceans, and proud ships of mer- 
chandise and war riding fearlessly forth to all the ports and 
continents of the globe ; when we see how much science 
has done, in discovering the amplitude, laws, and operations 
of nature ; when we see knowledge reduced to language, 
language to written letters and words, and these to books, 
by which man makes his thoughts travel the world over, and 
live and speak through all ages ; when we look upon the 
vast libraries, which have been made to give utterance to 
human thoughts ; when we see civil governments, founded 
on principles of equal justice, established over great nations ; 
and when we consider that all this is the work of the 
human intellect, — can we avoid exclaiming, How unlike 
that of the brute, how like to His, in whose image it is de- 
clared to have been made, is the intellect of man ! 

The most important of those intellectual powers, which 
distinguish man from the brute, may be comprehended un- 
der the following heads, — those of Abstraction, Classi- 
fication, Induction, Reason, Judgment, Imagination. 
Brute mind cannot be shown to possess these powers, in any 
proper sense ; and it will be seen, as we proceed, that it is by 
the use of these that man, availing himself of the materials 
furnished by his lower faculties, rises from the mere animal 
to the rank of a rational and immortal being. 



QUESTIONS. 243 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXI. 

What is said of a class of speculating philosophers ? Their illustra- 
tion ? Remarks. What of a chain of degrees ? What of apparent capri- 
ces ? Wherein are men and animals alike ? With what are the human 
powers, in distinction from those of the brute, associated? What is our 
knowledge of brute mind ? What is proposed ? What is said of the do- 
minion of man 1 In what consists man's power of dominion ? What is 
said of the want of speech in brutes 1 Of man's physical strength ? How 
then can he maintain his dominion ? The operations of the divine Mind 
in the four kingdoms of nature ? In making part of his works means of 
accomplishing others ? To what is all this similar ? Illustrations ? Un- 
der what heads may be comprehended the most important of those 
powers, which distinguish man from the brute ? 



CHAPTER XXII 



ABSTRACTION. 



Abstraction implies the power of considering any part 
or property of an object by itself. Thus, if we take an 
apple in our hands, we may think of its magnitude, or of its 
smoothness, or of its mellowness, or of its odor, or of its 
color, or, if we taste it, of its flavor. Considering any one 
of these properties apart from the apple itself, is called 
abstraction. 

Some have confounded abstraction with analysis; but 
there is some difference between them. Abstraction is the 
considering of one part or property of an object by itself; 
analysis is the resolving of the whole object into its elements. 
Analysis implies more than abstraction. We abstract when 
we analyze, but we do not always analyze when we abstract. 
The chemist analyzes when he decomposes water, air, mar- 
ble, &c, into their simple elements ; he literally abstracts, 
when he withdraws some one element from the object to 
which it belongs. 

But we may separate in thought, when we do not mfact; 
the former is commonly called abstraction, the latter analy- 
sis. Hence abstraction belongs more properly to mental 
science ; analysis, to physical. We can in thought separate 
the length, breadth, thickness, hardness, &c, of a marble 
slab, from the slab itself; this is abstraction* We can in 

. * It was a theory of the ancient schools, down to the eleventh century, 
that there were certain universal realities, or "forms of things from eter- 
nity immersed in matter," to which abstract names arc given. " Such," 
says Stewart, " appears to have been the prevailing opinion concerning the 
nature of universals, till the eleventh century, when a new doctrine, or as 
some authors think, a doctrine borrowed from the school of Zeno, was 



ABSTRACTION. 245 

fact separate the elements of that slab — the lime, carbonic 
acid, &c. — from each other ; this is analysis. The latter 
term is however, applied, figuratively, to mere mental action. 

IMPORTANCE OF ABSTRACTION. 

Abstraction is at the foundation of all classification , and 
some merge them into one ; but as they are really distinct, 
their offices are sufficiently marked and important to justify 
contemplating them apart. Abstraction is as essential to 
our reasoning powers, both in morals and mathematics, as 
to our classification. The direct office of this power is, to 
enable the mind to derive a multitude of ideas from a single 
object; ideas applicable not only to other objects of the 
same kind or species, but to those of every description. 
Here we begin to see the broad line of distinction between 
the human and brute intellect.* 

ILLUSTRATION. 

When the brute looks upon an object, he seems to regard 
it only as a ivhole ; he derives from it, as it were, but a 

proposed by Roscellinus ; and soon after very widely propagated over 
Europe by the abilities and eloquence of one of his scholars, the celebrated 
Peter Abelard. According to these philosophers, there are no existences 
in nature corresponding to general terms, and the objects of our attention 
in all our general speculations are not ideas, but words. 

" In consequence of this new doctrine, the schoolmen gradually formed 
themselves into two sects ; one of which attached itself to the opinions of 
Roscellinus and Abelard, while the other adhered to the principles of 
Aristotle. Of these sects, the former are known in literary history by the 
name of Nominalists ; the latter by the name of Realists. It is with the 
doctrine of the Nominalists, that my own opinion on this subject coin- 
cides." Stewarfs Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 98. 

* " This power of considering certain qualities or attributes of an object 
apart from the rest, or, as I would rather choose to call it, the power 
which the understanding has, of separating the combinations which are 
present to it, is distinguished by logicians by the name of abstraction. It 
had been supposed by some philosophers (with what probability I shall 
not now inquire), to form the characteristical attribute of a rational nature. 
That it is one of the most important of all our faculties, and very inti- 
mately connected with the exercise of our reasoning powers, is beyond 
dispute." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 90. 

21* 



246 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

single idea. But man regards it also in its numerous 
properties Midi elements. Thus, when he looks upon a stone, 
a tree, or a flower, he not only receives the one idea of that 
object, as the brute does, but he also gathers from it the 
abstract ideas of length, breadth, thickness, solidity, color, 
&c. These abstract ideas, by the aid of other faculties, 
he can employ in forming conceptions of unseen and distant 
objects. When he hears an object described, having proper- 
ties similar to those with which he has thus become familiar, 
he as readily conceives it, although thousands of miles dis- 
tant, as though it had just lain directly before his eyes. By 
examining the properties of the few objects about him, his 
mind obtains the means of becoming acquainted with the 
universe at large. Histories, descriptions, paintings, of dis- 
tant places and objects, present to him these objects with 
scarcely less exactness than the actual presence of the 
objects themselves. A description of St. Paul's church in 
London, or of Mount Vesuvius, or of the Egyptian pyramids, 
enables the distant artist to draw a picture nearly or quite 
as true to the original, as though his eyes had actually seen 
them. 

Thus, while brute intellect is confined to the little spot or 
the particular objects on which the animal gazes, the human 
intellect, like that of Him in whose likeness it was made, 
overleaps the boundaries of physical vision, expatiates 
abroad, accumulating treasures of ever growing wealth in all 
parts of creation. While the student's body is living only 
in one small spot, his mind may be living in distant conti- 
nents, — now exploring the busy streets of* London, or gazing 
upon some of the objects of special interest in that great 
metropolis ; now looking with admiration upon the stupen- 
dous structure of St. Peter's, in Rome ; now casting a 
glance of solemn awe upon the pyramids of Egypt ; now 
indulging its taste with fine relics of Grecian architecture ; 
and now again, with bolder adventure, travelling amidst the 
wonders of India and China, or, perhaps, exploring the 
choral beds of the ocean ; or, ascending the towering moun- 
tains of the land of the sun, into regions of everlasting win- 
ter and storm. 

Thus has the human intellect power to appropriate to 



ABSTRACTION. 247 

itself all the works of creation, far and near ; it can know, 
possess, enjoj them ; while, for aught that appears, the 
intellect of the brute has no part nor lot in any thing, except 
what lies within the little circle of his bodily vision. 



RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO MATHEMATICS. 

The whole science of mathematics is one of abstract num- 
bers and relations. Hence it is eminently dependent on 
that mental power which we are now considering. Other 
powers are also called into exercise, more or less, but all 
depend on these. "We learn most things first in the con- 
crete. The child has his marbles, his blocks, &c. From 
these, or any thing else which he happens to play with, he 
begins to get the notion of length, breadth, thickness ; of 
roundness, squareness, &c. He also learns to consider his 
toys as one, two, three ; as few or many. All these ideas 
he abstracts from the toys themselves, and holds them in 
his mind as elements of abstract or mathematical science. 
These abstract ideas are called general, because they apply 
to all subjects. When a person has once learned to compute 
and measure, he may apply his computations and measure- 
ments to objects of every description. But the science of 
mathematics keeps itself aloof from these objects ; considered 
in itself, it is a science of pure abstractions. 



RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO THE PRACTICAL ARTS. 

It is in the exercise of this power that the machinist, the 
architect, the mason, the carpenter, is enabled to adjust his 
materials to the relations for which they are severally de- 
signed. An abstraction, a measurement of what is wanted, 
is first obtained ; by this the material is wrought and 
adjusted to its design, so that when the several parts of the 
machinery, — the house, the ship, or whatever it be, — are 
brought together, although from various and distant places, 
they are found to fit each other precisely. Many a compli- 
cated machine, many a splendid edifice, has been thus 



248 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

erected of materials wrought in different parts of the world. 
The temple of Solomon is said to have been built of mate- 
rials wrought in the distant mountains, with such an exact 
application of the abstract principles, that at its erection the 
sound of the hammer did not break the sacred silence of the 
holy place. It is truly a beautiful illustration of the mental 
power we are considering, to behold a vast edifice rising 
under the workman's hands, every joint, every pin, every 
mortice, moving into its exact place, as though it had been 
there before. Indeed, by the application of abstract princi- 
ples, a more perfect " fit " can often be obtained, than by 
the actual application of the objects themselves. 



RIGHT USE OF THIS POWER. 

On this point, Mr. Stewart has well remarked, " In a 
perfect system of education, care should be taken to guard 
against both extremes, and to unite habits of abstraction 
with habits of business, in such a manner as to enable men 
to consider things, either in general or in detail, as the occa- 
sion may require. Whichever of these habits may happen 
to gain an undue ascendant over the mind, it will necessarily 
produce a character limited in its powers, and fitted only for 
particular exertions. Hence some of the apparent incon- 
sistencies which we may frequently remark in the intellectual 
capacities of the same person. One man, from an early 
indulgence in abstract speculation, possesses a knowledge of 
general principles, and a talent for general reasoning, united 
with a fluency and eloquence in the use of general terms, 
which seem to the vulgar to announce abilities fitted for any 
given situation in life ; while, in the conduct of the simplest 
affairs, he exhibits every mark of irresolution and incapacity. 
Another not only acts with propriety and skill, in circum- 
stances which require a minute attention to details, but pos- 
sesses an acuteness of reasoning, and a facility of expression 
on all subjects, in which nothing but what is particular is 
involved ; while, on general topics, he is perfectly unable 
either to reason or to judge." A perfect combination of the 
two habits — that of dealing in abstract and general princi- 



ABSTRACTION. 249 

pies, and that of dealing in details — makes the most perfect 
education. It bridges the gulph between the learned and 
the uneducated. " Expert men," says Lord Bacon, " can 
execute and judge of particulars one by one ; but the gene- 
ral counsels, and the plots, and the marshalling of affairs, 
come best from those that are learned.* " 



RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO RELIGION. 

This distinguishing prerogative allies man to that invisible 
empire of objects revealed in Christianity. It furnishes his 
conception and imagination with the materials for embracing 
other beings, other modes of existence, other and higher 
interests, than this world affords. He is thus placed in re- 
lation to the Christian religion. He becomes acquainted 
with distant objects not only of the present age, but also of 
ages preceding and ages coming. He becomes both a chron- 
icler of the past and a prophet of the future. 

The same intellectual power acquaints him with the 
abstract properties and qualities of mind. When a man 
contemplates the mental character of a fellow-being, he con- 
siders not merely that one character as a whole, — he also 
gathers from it the abstract properties of reason, judgment, 
memory ; the various qualities of virtue, truth, justice ; of 
vice, falsehood, dishonesty ; of love, hatred, revenge. By 
means of these abstractions, so combined as to answer to 
descriptions of character, he is enabled to form just concep- 
tions of thousands of men on record, whom he has not seen. 
He thus becomes, as it were, personally acquainted with 
Adam, Abraham, Noah, Job, Daniel ; with Cyrus, Alexan- 
der, Caesar, Hannibal; with Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero, 
Virgil ; and with all the illustrious dead, whose histories 
have reached us. 

In the same way he becomes acquainted with that won- 
derful personage, Jesus Christ. He has never seen him, 
but he has abstracted, from various sources, something like 
the mental and moral qualities predicated of him, and, by 

* See Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, pp. 131, 132. 



250 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the aid of imagination, so combines them as to conceive of a 
being answering to the historic description of him. Thus 
does Jesus Christ, although never seen by his bodily eye, 
stand as it were in living form before his mind, the object 
of his admiration and gratitude. In the same way he be- 
comes, as it were, acquainted with the angelic beings men- 
tioned in the Sacred Scriptures, and finally with God him- 
self. His mind thus gradually ascends, as on the patriarch's 
ladder, from the cold hard earth on which his body rests, 
into the warm and glorious realms of heaven. All this is 
wholly without the range of brute mind. It evidently places 
man apart from all creatures upon the earth, in relation to 
other and higher worlds than this. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXII. 

What is abstraction ? Illustration ? With what have some confounded 
abstraction ? State the distinction ? Illustrate. What is said of doing 
in thought what is not done in fact ? What is abstraction at the founda- 
tion of ? What is its direct office? Illustrations? State the disparity 
between the human and brute mind, in this particular. Relation of ab- 
straction to mathematics ? How do we first learn things ? Illustration ? 
Relation of abstraction to the practical arts ? Temple of Solomon ? Stew- 
art's remarks on the right use of this power. To what does this distin- 
guishing prerogative ally man ? Remarks ? With what does the same 
intellectual power acquaint him ? Remarks ? The several illustrations ? 
Where then does this power evidently place man ? 



CHAPTER XXIII 



CLASSIFICATION. 



Classification implies the power of arranging things 
into genera and species. Suppose a promiscuous heap of 
fruit, which it is proposed to classify. We remove all that 
is of a particular shape and appearance, and place it by 
itself ; to this heap we give the name apple. We do the 
same in reference to all the fruit of another shape and 
appearance, and call it pear ; the same in reference to that 
of another, and call it peach ; in reference to that of ano- 
ther, and call it plum; to that of aDother, and call it 
cherry. We have now arranged the fruit into genera. 
We have the genus apple, the genus pear, the genus 
peach, &c. 

SUBDIVISION OF GENERA INTO SPECIES. 

But on examining the apples further, we find that some 
are sweet and others sour. We divide again, placing the 
sweet by themselves, and the sour by themselves. Under 
the genus apple, the sweet and the sour are species. We 
examine more minutely, and find that the sour apples have 
various flavors. We select those characterized by peculiar 
flavors, and place all of like flavors together in separate 
heaps ; we do the same with the sweet apples. 

If now we consider the sour apples a genus, these subdi 
visions of them are species ; so also, if the sweet apples be 
considered a genus, the different sorts of sweet apples under 
this genus are species. So, as we descend from the general 



252 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

to the specific, species become genera ; and as we ascend 
from the specific to the general, genera become species. 
We go through a similar process with all the other fruits. 

We have now performed a scientific classification of the 
previously confused heap. Having done this in reference 
to the heap before us, we have virtually done it in reference 
to all such fruits in the world. Hereafter, whenever we see 
or hear of any such fruits, we know what they are, and where 
to place them. From these few facts, our minds have learned 
a lesson wide as the world. But classification does not 
necessarily include the actual separation and arrangement 
of the several genera and species ; as in abstraction, we 
often do mentally what cannot be done actually ; and it is 
only the mental process with which we are now concerned. 



CLASSIFICATION AN ORIGINAL PRINCIPLE. 

That the power of classification is an original and essential 
attribute of humanity, is evident from the fact that all men 
give evidence of possessing it, and that children manifest it 
prior to instruction* The rudest savage tribes classify the 
trees, plants, and animals, with which they are conversant; 
and if we give to the little child a heap of variously shaped 
and colored beads, we find it immediately engaged in assort- 

* " Un enfant appelle clu nom d'Arbre le premier arbre que nous lui 
montrons. Un second arbre qu'il voit ensuite lui rapelle la meme idee : 
il lue donne le meme nom ; de meme a un troisieme, a un quatrieme, et I 
voila le mot d'Arbre donne d'abord a un individu, qui devient pour lui 
un nom de classe ou de genre, une idee abstraite qui comprend tous les , 
arbrcs en general." Abbe de Condillac. 

" The particular cave, whose covering sheltered the savage from the I 
weather ; the particular tree, whose fruit relieved his hunger ; the particu- 
lar fountain, whose water allayed his thirst; would first be denominated 
by the words cave, tree, fountain ; or by whatever other appellation he| 
might think proper, in^that primitive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, 
when the more enlarged experience of this savage had led him to observe, 
and his necessary occasion obliged him to make mention of other cases I 
and other trees, and other fountains ; he would naturally bestow uponl 
each of these new objects, the same name by which he had been accustomedl 
to express the similar object he was first acquainted with. And thus,! 
those words, which were originally the proper names of individuals, wouldl 
each of them insensibly become the common name of a multitude."! 
Smith's Origin of Language. See Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 89. 



CLASSIFICATION. 253 

ing them according to their forms and colors. We see 
here, as indeed every where else, an adaptation of the 
human mind to the lessons to be learned. The mind has 
the constitutional power and propensity to classify ; and 
classes in nature actually exist. Creation is not a confused 
jumble. Although no two of any genus or species are ex- 
actly alike, yet all of each genus and of each species have 
the distinctive characteristics ivhich determine its family. 
The lines are drawn with a breadth and clearness, which 
can never be mistaken. Horses, for instance, are of all 
imaginable varieties ; yet no horse partakes of the genus 
elephant, or tiger, or any other animal but a horse. The 
same is true, in the strictest sense, of all the classes in the 
mineral, vegetable, animal, and rational kingdoms. The 
principle of a severe and exact classification runs through 
them all, indicating the existence of that attribute in the 
mind of their Creator, which he has implanted in the minds 
of those whom he has made to study his works. 



INCORRECT CLASSIFICATION. 

Although the propensity to classify is early and univer- 
sally developed, like all the other mental faculties, it needs 
instruction. The classifications of untaught minds are 
sometimes exceedingly erroneous. The error usually con- 
sists in classing things together whose points of resemblance 
are deceptive and casual, instead of being real and perma- 
nent. Thus a child would be likely to arrange glass, crys- 
tal, diamond, in one class ; being deceived by appearance. 
Gold, brass, and all modifications of metals of a yellow color, 
would for the same reason be grouped together. When the 
education of a person is quite limited, in his attempts to 
bring every new object within the classes which he has 
formed, he sometimes places it in very strange company. 

Dagald Stewart refers to a fact illustrative of this, men- 
tioned by Captain Cook in his account of a small island 
called Wateeoo, which he visited in sailing from New Zealand 
to the Friendly Islands. " The inhabitants," says he, " were 
afraid to come near our cows and horses, nor did they form 
22 



254 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the least conception of their nature. But the sheep and 
goats did not surpass the limits of their ideas ; for they gave 
us to understand that they knew them to be birds. It will 
appear," he adds, " rather incredible, that human ignorance 
could ever make so strange a mistake, there not being the 
most distant similitude between a sheep or a goat, and any 
winged animal. But these people seemed to know nothing 
of the existence of any other land animals, besides hogs, 
dogs, and birds. Our sheep and goats, they could see, 
w«re very different creatures from the first two, and there- 
fore they inferred that they must belong to the latter class, 
in which they knew that there is a considerable variety of 
species." * 



CLASSIFICATION A DISTINGUISHING ATTRIBUTE. 

Brute mind regards objects only as individual things, 
whereas the human mind contemplates them as representa- 
tives of vast kingdoms of objects like themselves. Thus, 
while brute intellect rests upon the single object seen, the 
human intellect bounds from it to the great class of objects, 
to which it belongs. So soon as the human mind becomes 
acquainted with one oak, it is virtually acquainted with all 
the oaks of that kind upon the face of the earth. The same 
is true of it in regard to all plants, flowers, grains ; minerals 
and metals ; beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes. In the same 
way, it classes the shining hosts of the firmament ; also all 
the works of human art, fabrics, cities, kingdoms. It thus 
educes order from confusion; and the universe, to brute 
mind little else than a mere blank, becomes to the human 
intellect a lesson easy and delightful to read.f 

* Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 90. 

t The reader should here guard against two extremes, — that of sup- 
posing absolute classes, independently of real existences, on the one 
hand; and that of supposing classification a mere grouping of individuals 
for the sake of convenience, on the other. There arc real classes in na- 
ture — classes in the concrete — although classification should proceed on 
the strict inductive plan. Dugald Stewart, referring to some of the an- 
cient philosophers, says, "Forgetting that genera and species are mere 
arbitrary creations which the human mind forms, by withdrawing the 



CLASSIFICATION. 255 

It must here be noticed, that while I maintain the neces- 
sity of an examination of particular objects, as the founda- 
tion of all human knowledge, I at the same time claim that 
our knowledge is not restricted to our individual experience, 
but extends infinitely beyond it ; and this is predicated of 
man in distinction from the brute. The brute knows one 
thing at a time, and that one thing goes from his mind as it 
comes — a solitary, uninstructive fact. But man, in learn- 
ing that one thing, learns all things of the same genus in 
the universe, and all these, too, in their relations to other 
genera and to the universal system. 



PROGRESS OF NATURAL SCIENCE DEPENDS ON CLASSIF 1 " 

CATION. 

The progress of individuals in knowledge, has been seen 
to depend on the power of classification. It is the same 
that enables the human race, as such, to bear onward the 
cause of science, in a course of steady progress, from age 
to age. The following interesting paragraph from Condor- 
cet, Sur V Instruction Publique, is too much to our purpose 
here to be omitted. " To such of my readers, as may be 
slow in admitting the possibility of this progressive improve- 
ment in the human race, allow me to state, as an example, 
the history of that science in which the advances of discovery 
are the most certain, and in which they may be measured 
with the greatest precision. Those elementary truths of 
geometry and of astronomy, which, in India and Egypt, 
formed an occult science, upon which an ambitious priest- 

attention from the distinguishing qualities of objects, and giving a com- 
mon name to their resembling qualities, they conceived universals to' be 
real existences, or (as they expressed it) to be the essences of individuals ; 
and flattered themselves with the belief that by directing their atten- 
tion to these essences in the first instance, they might be enabled to pene- 
trate the secrets of the universe, without submitting to the study of nature 
in detail." Stewarts Philosophy, Vol L. p. 123. Both this philosopher, 
and the ancient philosophers whom he rebukes, fail to hit the true mark. 
" Genera and species are " not " mere arbitrary creations." They exist in 
nature. But we arrive at the true knowledge of them, not as the Platonists 
and the Peripatetics supposed, by directing attention to imagined abstract 
essences, but by studying nature in the detail. 



256 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

hood founded its influence, were become, in the times of 
Archimedes and Hipparchus, the subjects of common educa- 
tion in the public schools of Greece. In the last century, 
a few years of study were sufficient for comprehending all 
that Archimedes and Hipparchus knew ; and, at present, 
two years employed under an able teacher, carry the student 
beyond those conclusions, which limited the inquiries of 
Liebnitz and of Newton. Let any person reflect on these 
facts ; let him follow the immense chain which connects the 
inquiries of Euler with those of a priest of Memphis ; let 
him observe, at each epoch, how genius outstrips the present 
age, and how it is overtaken by mediocrity in the next ; he 
will perceive, that nature has furnished us with the means 
of abridging and facilitating our intellectual labor, and that 
there is no reason for apprehending that such simplification 
can ever have an end. He will perceive, that at the mo- 
ment when a multitude of particular solutions, and of insu- 
lated facts, begin to distract the attention, and to overcharge 
the memory, the former gradually lose themselves in one 
general method, and the latter unite in one general law ; 
and that these generalizations, continually succeeding one 
to another, like the successive multiplications of a number 
by itself, have no other limit, than that infinity which the 
human faculties are unable to comprehend." : 



MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE DEPEND ON CLASSIFICATION. 

It is evident that without the power of classification, we 
could never take the first step in mental and moral science. 
If any mental act were to be regarded as an individual by 
itself, unlike every other mental act, we could come to no 
understanding of each other's mental phenomena, — we could 
not even interpret our own. But there are real classes of 
mental acts, which we all have in common. For instance, 
what we call acts of memory, and what we call acts of per- 
ception, have each a character so marked, so peculiar, that 
we find no difficulty in mutually understanding the same 

* Sec Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 126. 



CLASSIFICATION. 257 

name, as applied to all the myriads of the one or of the 
other, both in ourselves and in all other beings. 

The same is true of our moral affections. Those affec- 
tions, for instance, to which we give the name love, and 
those to which we give the name hatred, are each so marked 
and so peculiar to themselves, that we can easily class them. 
The term designating all the affections of one of these 
classes, whether in human or superhuman beings, conveys 
to our minds a perfectly clear and exact idea. The same 
may be said of all the moral powers and affections. Hence 
we are enabled to come to a knowledge of each other's 
minds ; to systematize our mental operations, and to give 
and receive instruction. 

Teaching is addressed to certain classes of mental proper- 
ties and actions, generically the same in all ; so that the 
teaching adapted to one mind, is essentially adapted to all 
minds, in the same stage of progress. It is on this princi- 
ple that text-books are provided for classes of children, em- 
bracing thousands, and that a book of truly profound and 
original thought, like Butler's Analogy, adapted to command 
the homage of the thinking classes of any one age, is adapted 
to do the same in all ages. 



THE LEARNED PROFESSIONS DEPEND ON CLASSIFICATION. 

The profession of the teacher is involved in what has been 
already said. It is evident that the medical profession is 
also wholly dependent on classification. Unless diseases 
and their remedies could be classified, the whole science of 
medicine would be reduced to mere empiricism ; not a book 
could be written, not a single rule of practice instituted, not 
an examination or an experiment made, of the least practical 
value. In every individual case, the practitioner must needs 
begin anew, untaught by science, unadmonished by expe- 
rience.* 

* "Without such a classification, it would be impossible for us to fix 
our attention, amidst the multiplicity of particulars _ which the subject 
presents us, or to arrive at any general principles, which might serve to 
guide our inquiries in comparing different institutions together. It is for 

22* 



258 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The legal and the clerical professions would be involved 
in the same chaos. Unless the characters and actions of 
men were classified, and compared with appropriate rules 
of duty, the bar could neither advocate nor defend ; the 
bench could neither acquit nor condemn ; the pulpit could 
administer neither instruction, rebuke, nor encouragement. 
All these points are too manifest to require elucidation. 



RELATION OF CLASSIFICATION TO RELIGION. 

The relation of this subject to religion, becomes thus very 
evident. A single man or the men of any one age represent- 
ing the men of all ages, a book of instruction from God to any 
individual or to the individuals of any one age, is adapted 
to all men of all ages. Hence, the Bible, although given 
to man at different periods, and many generations since, is 
as perfectly adapted to us of this generation, as it was to 
the ancients. We all belong to the same genus ; we all 
have the same classes of mental and moral attributes. " As 
face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to man." 
Taking advantage of this fact, God makes one book of revela- 
tion answer for all men ; and he makes it our duty to recog- 
nize the same fact, and receive that revelation as addressed 
to each one of us. 

The human race being thus regarded as a genus, suscep- 
tible of one and the same revelation from God, the several 
characters developed under this revelation are also resolva- 
ble into distinct classes. There is a class of moral disposi- 
tions, which we denominate vicious or wicked; there is 
another class, which we denominate virtuous or holy ; and 
according as the one or the other has the dominion in men, 
we call them bad or good men. We thus classify the 
human race in respect to character. We recognize good or 
bad children, good or bad husbands and wives, good or bad 

a similar reason, that the speculative farmer reduces the infinite variety 
of soils to a few general descriptions ; the physician, the infinite variety 
of bodily constitutions to a few temperaments; and the moralist, the 
infinite variety of human characters to a few of the ruling principles of 
action." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 128. 



QUESTIONS. 259 

parents, good or bad citizens, good or bad magistrates, and 
treat them according to their respective characters. 

There are degrees in good and evil ; still, good is 
good, and evil is evil ; and we find little difficulty in 
assigning men to their appropriate places in the scale 
of character. All human governments, from the parental 
upward, proceed on this principle of classification. It 
is on the same principle that the Moral Ruler of the 
universe divides the human race into the generic classes — 
the righteous and the wicked — and assigns to each appro- 
priate rewards. Christianity is a system of classification ; 
it came not only to call sinners to repentance, but to make 
us " discern between the righteous and the iviclced, between 
him that serveth Grod and him that serveth him not." 



SUMMARY. 

We thus arrive at the conclusion, that the practical arts 
of life, the progress of the human race in knowledge, all the 
learned professions, all human governments, are dependent 
on this principle of classification ; and not only these, but 
also the great and sublime science of moral government. 
The Creator and Ruler of all, has enabled man to unite 
with himself in classing virtues and vices, in separating good 
men from bad, as the refiner separates the gold from the 
dross. As brute intellect has not this power, it is incapable 
of moral science, and therefore incapable of religion. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXIII. 

What does classification imply ? Illustration ? The suhdivision of 
genera into species ? How does it appear that classification is an original 
principle ? Examples ? What is said of classes in nature ? Illustrations ? 
Incorrect classifications? Examples in children? Fact by Stewart? 
How does brute mind regard objects ? How the human ? Illustrations ? 



260 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

What caution in the note 1 Stewart's remarks, in the note, on the ancient 
philosophers, and the subjoined strictures on both him and them ? What 
will here be noticed ? How does the brute learn ? How man ? What is 
said of the progress of natural science ? Remarks of Condorcet 1 What 
could we never do without the power of classification 1 Remarks ? Illus- 
trations of the same truth in regard to moral affections ? What of teaching 
and books ? The several professions ? Relation to religion ? How does 
God take advantage of our all having the same classes of mental and 
moral attributes ? What are the classes of moral dispositions ? What, 
in this view, is the mission of Christianity 1 At what conclusion do we 




CHAPTER XXIV 



INDUCTION. 



It is by the power of induction, that we infer general 
laws from individual facts. By the term law, however, I 
designate only an established order of sequence. Applied to 
natural science, the term is figurative. When, for instance, 
we speak of the law of falling bodies, we mean only to say, 
that as a matter of fact, bodies actually do, under given 
circumstances, always fall thus and so. Beyond the ul- 
timate fact, science cannot go ; for all true science is 
founded on facts. In this view, induction is nearly the 
same with generalization. It differs from classification in 
this ; — classification respects similarity of properties ; in- 
duction, an established order of sequence. Stewart and 
some other philosophers consider abstraction, classification, 
generalization, and induction, all under one head. The pro- 
priety of considering them under three distinct heads, will 
hardly be questioned. Abstraction separates, classification 
combines and groups, induction establishes the order of 
events. In the last two, generalization is of course involved ; 
referring us to general classes and general laws. 



ORIGIN OF OUR RELIEF IN" AN ESTAELISHED ORDER 

OF EVENTS. 

How do we come to believe that events do and will suc- 
ceed each other in an established order ? Our faith in the 
constancy of nature's course, all admit, is of infinite impor- 
tance to us, being essential to our very existence. But 
respecting its origin, two opinions have been maintained. 



262 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The opinion of the German school is, that it is natural 
to us ; that it is a connate and essential element of our 
minds. The opinion of the British school is, that it is 
wholly the fruit of experience ; that we acquire it, as we 
do all our knowledge, by a repeated dealing ivith facts.* 

The real truth seems to be this : — we have a suscepti- 
bility of mind to the faith in question ; but the faith itself is 
the fruit of repeated observation and experience. The first 
time the child, prior to instruction, sees gunpowder explode, 
on the application of a spark, he is inclined to expect that 
the same cause will again produce the same effect ; but 
he does not feel sure of it. He is disposed to make a 
second trial. The second trial greatly strengthens his ex- 
pectation ; a few repetitions dispel all doubt, and he 
finally settles it in his mind as an established order of 
sequence, f Whether there is any inherent power in the 
spark to explode the powder, or whether the application of 
the spark is the mere occasion on which a higher efficiency 
is exerted, is a question of speculation which he is not here 
called to settle: all he is concerned with is the mere fact, 
that such is the established order. 



THE POWER OF INDUCTION A DISTINGUISHING ATTRIBUTE. 

The brute has memory, by which he is reminded of the 
place where he fell, or was frightened, or was fed ; he has 
also a large endowment of instinct, by which he protects 

* Dr. Thomas Brown, however, favors the first theory. He says, " By 
an original principle of our constitution, we are led, from the mere observa- 
tion of change, to believe, that, when similar circumstances recur, the 
changes, which we observed, will also recur in the same order." Philoso- 
phy, Vol. I., p. G5. 

t "Induction is founded on the belief, that the course of nature is gov- 
erned by uniform laws, and that things will happen in future, as we have 
observed them to happen in time past. We can have no proof of a perma- 
nent connection between any events, or between any two qualities either 
of body or mind. The only reason for supposing such a connection in any 
instance is, that we have invariably found certain things to have been con- 
joined in fact ; and this experience, in many cases, produces a conviction 
equal to that of demonstration." Elements of Logic, by Levi Hedge, frc, 
p. 76. 



INDUCTION. 263 

himself from danger and provides for his young ; but when 
he sees an effect, he has no power to recognize the general 
law by which it occurred. When the human intellect, on 
the other hand, perceives an effect, it has the power to 
refer it to a cause, and thence to a general sequence or law 
of events. 



ILLUSTRATION. 

When Sir Isaac Newton saw an apple fall from a tree, 
he inferred that there was some cause operating to produce 
that effect, and inquired whether the same cause, operating 
in similar circumstances, would not always produce the 
same effects. He thus came to a knowledge of the general 
laws, by which all the atoms of our globe, all the substances 
in the atmosphere, the whole solar system, all the stars of 
heaven, and, so far as we know, the whole material universe, 
are governed. What a distinguishing prerogative — what 
a stupendous power — is that, by which the human intellect, 
from observing only the falling of an apple, could ascend to 
the knowledge of that law hy which planets, worlds, suns, 
and systems, are borne up in space and wheeled through 
the heavens ! 



VARIOUS PURPOSES OF INDUCTION. 

It appears that this power has as wide a range and as 
important an use as classification. Without this, the laws 
of gravity, of mechanical forces, of hydrostatics and pneu- 
matics ; of sound, light, vision, colors ; electricity and mag- 
netism, and all the valuable arts founded upon them ; must 
have been entirely excluded from us. It is by virtue of 
this, we know that fire will always burn, and so learn to use 
it accordingly ; that water will always run down an inclined 
plane, and so construct expensive mills, trusting the law of 
gravitation to insure their operation ; that light will always 
move in straight lines, reflected and refracted in a way to 
cause angles of incidence equal to angles of reflection, and 



264 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

so make our windows, our glasses, all our optical instruments, 
as the law of light demands ; that dry gunpowder, when 
touched with a spark, will uniformly explode, and so con- 
struct our fire-arms, go forth to hunt game, venture our lives 
in the face of wild beasts and assassins, and even march to 
the battle-field, trusting the unfailing operation of this uni- 
versal law ; that wood, formed into certain structures, will 
always float upon water, and so construct ships, and launch 
our property and our lives upon the ocean; that metals, 
heated to certain degrees, will invariably fuse, and so build 
expensive furnaces, and provide other customary means of 
securing the desired effect ; that a propitious season and 
fertile soil, with appropriate tilling, will produce a harvest, 
and so labor in hope for this object. 



RELATION OF INDUCTION TO RELIGION. 

As it is by induction that we learn the general laws of 
the natural world, and are enabled wisely to regulate our 
conduct in relation to them, so it is by virtue of the same 
that we learn the general laws of God's moral government, 
and are guided in the path of wisdom and duty. We hence 
learn, that the character which pleased or displeased Jeho- 
vah — which procured his blessing or his frown — in Pales- 
tine, Babylon, or Egypt, four thousand years ago, is followed 
by similar results still, and always will be. 

Hence all history becomes admonitory to us, and the 
sacred writings especially, having the seal of God upon 
them, pour a flood of light on our pathway to eternity. In- 
duction assures us, as positively as it does the astronomer 
the course of the planets, and the agriculturalist the course 
of the seasons, that if repentance of sin, faith in the Saviour, 
devotion of heart and life to God, secured an unspeakable 
and eternal blessing to apostles and other primitive Chris- 
tians, they will do the same for us. 



INDUCTION. 265 



INDUCTION FURNISHES THE TEST OF WISDOM. 

That conduct is truly wise, which is based upon the known 
laws of the natural and moral universe. Here then we 
readily trace the distinction between wisdom and fanaticism. 
Are those men fanatical, who, having carefully examined 
the laws of nature, bestow years of labor and sacrifice upon 
a great and worthy physical object — as, for instance, the 
construction of an extensive manufacturing establishment, 
or a railroad — trusting the known laws of nature to secure 
to them the proposed good ? Were there any serious cause 
for doubting whether water would continue to flow down- 
ward, or machinery to obey its impulse ; or whether steam 
would continue to perform the office of propelling an engine ; 
such a vast outlay might seem to border on fanaticism. 
But so long as our confidence in the steadfastness of nature's 
course remains unshaken, it is wisdom to adapt our plans to 
it. Are those men then fanatical, who bestow years of labor 
and sacrifice upon a great moral and Christian object, 
trusting the known laws of the moral universe to secure to 
them the expected good in due time ? Viewed only in the 
light of philosophy, there is sound wisdom in the apostolic 
injunction, " Be not weary in ivell doing ; for in due time 
you shall reap, if you faint not" For it is as true in the 
moral as in the natural world, that " ivhatsoever a man 
soiveth, that he shall also reap." 

We have only to study the laws of mind and of the moral 
universe, to be assured that it was the highest wisdom in 
Moses to prefer to suffer affliction with the people of God 
rather than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season ; because 
he had respect to the recompense of reward — a recompense 
none the less sure, for being in the distance. Duty and 
happiness, although they may seem distant, are yet bound 
together by an indissoluble chain ; and it is just as certain 
that wickedness, however triumphant at present, will en- 
counter ultimate defeat, and that righteousness, however 
oppressed, will eventually triumph, as that the laws of the 
moral universe cannot fail. 
23 



266 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A further consideration of this interesting topic would 
carry us into the department of moral philosophy, which it is 
not proposed to enter, in the present work. What has been 
said may suffice to indicate the distinguishing nature of this 
attribute, and its relation to the Christian religion. 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE POWER OF INDUCTION. 

This power is possessed by men in very unequal degrees, 
and it is this, certainly not less than any other, that distin- 
guishes the philosopher from the man of mere details. It 
imparts a breadth and a penetration of vision, which render 
man, in one sense, almost omnipresent and prophetic. 
Hence, as it is susceptible of indefinite improvement, it 
should have a prominent consideration in the education of 
all youth. 

Respecting the great importance of properly cultivating 
our inductive faculty, Dr. Brown makes the following judi- 
cious remarks : " It is important for us to know ivhat ante- 
cedents truly precede what consequents ; since we can thus 
provide for that future, which we are hence enabled to fore- 
see, and can in a great measure modify, and almost create 
the future to ourselves, by arranging the objects over which 
we have command, in such a manner as to form with them 
the antecedents, which we know to be invariably followed 
by the consequents desired by us. It is thus we are able 
to exercise that command over nature, which He, who is its 
only real Sovereign, has designed, in the magnificence of 
his bounty, to confer on us, together with the still greater 
privilege of knowing that Omnipotence to which all our 
delegated empire is so humbly subordinate. It is a com- 
mand which can be exercised by us only as beings, who, 
according to one of the definitions that have been given of 
man, look both before and behind; or, in the words of 
Cicero, who join and connect the future with the present, 
seeing things, not in their progress merely, but in the cir- 
cumstances that precede them and the circumstances that 
follow them, and being thus enabled to provide .and arrange 



INDUCTION. 267 

whatever is necessary for that life, of which the whole course 
lies open before us." * 



IMPROVEMENT OF THE INDUCTIVE FACULTY. 

Most of the particular directions for improving the induc- 
tive faculty, will be given under the head of Reasoning. 
Indeed, logicians generally include induction with the general 
subject of reasoning, but in an analysis of the mental facul- 
ties, they should be, to some extent, considered apart. 

All the directions which I would here give, on this point, 
may be included under three heads : First, the minds of 
youth should be deeply impressed with the importance of 
being trained to habits of sound philosophical induction. 
One of the greatest of men, Lord Bacon, has assigned to it 
the very highest rank, both as an instrument for obtaining 
the knowledge of general truths, and also the rules and 
maxims for regulating the common business of life. And 
the illustrious evidence of its value, which he has given to 
the world, should deeply impress it on all young minds 
aspiring to eminence. Secondly. The propensity should 
be early encouraged, of tracing all facts and events both 
backward to their antecedents and fomoard to their conse- 
quents. This propensity early indulged, affords one of the 
brightest indications of future intellectual eminence. It was 
this, that led Bacon, Newton, La Place, and others like 
them, to discover so many of the great laws on which the 
course of nature proceeds. Children should be early trained 
to look at things, not merely in themselves, but in their 
causes and effects; and not merely in their proximate 
causes and effects, but those more and more remote ; and 
thus, finally, in the light of those great laivs of sequence 
by vjhich the steady course of nature moves on. 



* Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 68. The passage referred to in Cicero, 
is the following, " Homo autum, quod rationis est particeps, per quam 
consequentia cernit, causas rerum videt, carumque progressus et quasi 
antecessiones non ignorat, similitudines comparat, et rebus prajsentibus 
adjungit atque annectit futuras, facile to this vitae cursum videt, ad eamque 
degendam prasparat res necessarias." Cicero de OJficiis, Lib. I., Chap. iv. 



268 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Let the child begin with the simplest thing. He sees the 
green grass shooting up in the spring. What, under God, 
are the causes ? As he observes, he perceives three 
things, — the soil, the warmth, the moisture. Remove 
either of these, and the grass does not grow. Combine 
these, as in the spring, and the seed or root always shoots 
upward into the green blade. He observes the same next 
year, the year following, and thus arrives at the knowledge 
of a general law — a law running through all time, tie is 
now a chronicler of the past ; he can tell what has been 
going on, in this particular, in ages past ; he is also a 
prophet of the future, — he can tell what ivill be going on, 
in ages coming. Thousands of years hence, as spring 
sends its warmth and its showers upon the earth, grass will 
clothe hills and valleys with its living green. From this 
simple illustration, the student of nature may easily extend 
his observations and inductions to things more complicated. 
Thirdly, early care should be taken to distinguish real 
causes, or permanent antecedents, from mere accidental cir- 
cumstances. This marks the distinction between sound and 
false induction. Some minds are slow to make the distinc- 
tion ; others make it readily. The following is a good illus- 
tration of false induction. " Let us suppose that a savage, 
who, in a particular instance, had found himself relieved of 
some bodily indisposition by a draught of cold water, is a 
second time afflicted with a similar disorder, and is desirous 
to repeat the same remedy. With the limited degree of ex- 
perience which we have here supposed him to possess, it would 
be impossible for the acutest philosopher in his situation, to 
determine, whether the cure was owing to the water which 
was drank, to the cup in which it was contained, to the 
fountain from which it was taken, to the particular day of 
the month, or to the particular age of the moon. In order, 
therefore, to insure the success of the remedy, he will very 
naturally and very wisely copy, so far as he can recollect, 
every circumstance which accompanied the first application 
of it. He will make use of the same cup, draw the water 
from the same fountain, hold his body in the same posture, 
and turn his face in the same direction ; and thus all the 
accidental circumstances, in which the first experiment was 



INDUCTION. 269 

made, will come to be associated equally in his mind with 
the effect produced." * 

The remedy for such false inductions is to be found in 
careful and repeated observation ; in separating, one after 
another, those antecedents whose loss does not prevent .the 
effect ; and in bringing a general and gradually enlarging 
experience to bear upon the subject. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXIV. 

For what are we indebted to the power of induction ? What do we 
mean by law ? Illustrate. How far can science go ? On what is science 
founded ? Stewart's classification, and remarks upon it ? What is said 
of our faith in the constancy of nature's course 1 The two opinions of its 
origin ? What seems to be the real truth ? How illustrated ? How is 
induction shown to be a distinguishing attribute 1 Illustration ? Some of 
the various uses of induction 1 Illustrate its relation to religion. The dis- 
tinction between wisdom and fanaticism ? How shown 1 Moses ? What 
is said of duty and happiness ? Of the relative value of induction as distin- 
guishing the philosopher ? Brown's remarks 1 First direction for im- 
proving the inductive faculty % Remarks ? Second ? Remarks % The 
training of the child ? Third ? Remark \ Case supposed ? The remedy 
for false inductions 1 

* Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 199. 



23* 



CHAPTER XXV. 

REASON. 

All philosophers agree, that reason is the most distin- 
guishing and important of the intellectual faculties ; and 
yet they are much divided in regard to its nature and office. 
Philosophers of the German school make it in part synony- 
mous with what I have called intuition. In common dis- 
course, it denotes essentially the power of distinguishing 
betiveen truth and falsehood, and of appropriating means to 
ends. Hence it has usually been considered the guide of 
man, in distinction from all other faculties. The Kantian 
philosophy makes a generic distinction between reason and 
reasoning, considering the former as fixed, the latter as 
discursive. Reason is transcendent, above and independent 
of the senses ; while reasoning, in its search for truth, must 
needs call the senses into service. Regarded as the fixed 
and permanent eye of the mind, so long as its vision is 
strictly limited to self-evident truths, it is mere intuition ; 
when it is presumed to see more, it transcends our philoso- 
phy- 

DEFINITION OF REASON. 

According to the earlier writers of the British school, 
reason may be defined, the power of deducing one proposi- 
tion from another* Thus, if the proposition be laid down, 

* The propositions involving facts or events are brought together in 
the mind, and their relation determined. Hence Dr. Abercrombie re- 
marks, " Reason, in the language of intellectual science, appears to be 



REASON. 271 

God is just, reason deduces from it, Then he will punish the 
wicked. From the proposition, God is merciful, reason 
deduces, Then he will forgive the penitent. To the declara- 
tion, The plague is raging in the city, reason responds, It is 
then unsafe to go thither. In all cases, in which we thus 
deduce one proposition from another, we reason. 

Dr. Beattie gives the following definition, cited in a note 
by Stewart, which is substantially in accordance with the 
above. " Reason is used by those who are most accurate 
in distinguishing, to signify that power of the human mind 
by which we draw inferences, or by which we are convinced, 
that a relation belongs to two ideas, on account of our having 
found that these ideas bear certain relations to other ideas. 
In a word, it is that faculty which enables us, from relations 
or ideas that are known, to investigate such as are unknown, 
and without which we never could proceed in the discovery 
of truth a single step beyond first principles or intuitive 
axioms." * 

But it should be remarked, that more modern writers of 
this school have adopted a metaphysical distinction between 
reason and reasoning. " In opposition to the high authori- 
ties of Dr. Johnson and Dr. Beattie," says Dugald Stewart, 
" I must add, that for many years past, reason has been 
very seldom used by philosophical writers, or indeed by cor- 
rect writers of any description, as synonymous with the 
power of reasoning. To appeal to the light of human reason 
from the reasonings of the schools, is surely an expression 
to which no good objection can be made, on the score either 
of vagueness or of novelty. Nor has the etymological 
aflinity between these two words the slightest tendency to 
throw any obscurity on the foregoing expression." 

Stewart even concedes that we might perhaps, on some 
occasions, do well to substitute the word reason for intuition, 

that process by which we judge correctly of the true and uniform relations 
of facts, or events, and give to each circumstance its due influence in the 
deductions." Intellectual Philosophy, p. 138. " Reasoning is a process by 
which unknown truths are inferred from those, which are already known 
and admitted." Hedge's Logic, p. 70. 

* Beattie 's Essay on Truth, Part I., Chap. 1. See also Stewart's Philoso- 
phy, Vol. II., p. 43. 



272 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

in its modern enlarged acceptation.* With all deference to 
Stewart's opinion, there still seem to be conclusive objec- 
tions to confounding the old distinction of terms ; some , per- 
haps, which had not fully transpired at the time he wrote. 
Let us now pass from this point to some remarks upon 
reasoning. 



PKOPOSITIONS. 

In reasoning, we proceed from propositions to conclu- 
sions.^ Propositions are usually divided into simple, com- 
plex, and modal. A simple proposition consists of three single 
parts, like the following, — Grod is just. Here we perceive 
three parts, of one word each, — the subject, or that of 
which something is affirmed ; the predicate, or that which 
is affirmed of the subject ; and the copula, or that which 
unites the two parts of the proposition together. 

A complex proposition, is one in which the parts consist 
of several words ; as, An honest judge will give a just 
decision. Here the subject is made up of the words, An 
honest judge ; the predicate of the words, a just decision; 
and the copula of the words, will give. The proposition 
would be complex, if the copula had but one word ; as the 
difference made by two is only in tense. 

A modal proposition, is one in which the copula indicates 
some doubt or contingency ; as, Men of wealth may do 
much good. This kind of proposition is indicated by the 
subjunctive or potential mode. 

Propositions are the materials of all processes of reason- 
ing. They are not always stated inform, but all sentences 
in which there is reasoning, may be easily resolved into 

* " It may be fairly questioned, whether the word reason would not, on 
some occasions, be the best substitute which our language affords for 
intuition, in that enlarged acceptation which has been given to it of late." 
Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 43. 

{"This process, however, which is commonly called the discursive 
faculty, is to be distinguished from the simple exercise of reason. It 
ought to be guided by reason ; that is, by a full view of the real relations 
of the facts about which it is exercised." Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 138. 



REASON. 273 

them. The j have been compared to the blocks of stone, 
and reasoning to the process of putting them together, to 
form an edifice. 



HYPOTHETICAL AND DECLARATIVE PROPOSITIONS. 

Propositions may be either hypotheses, or declarations 
of facts. This is not essential to the validity of the reason- 
ing. Even if the propositions be false, the reasoning may be 
sound; since the reasoning is not responsible for the sound- 
ness of the materials, but only for the manner of putting 
them together. Hence the saying of logicians, What is 
true in reasoning, may be false in fact. If the premises, or 
propositions assumed, be false, the results of the reasoning 
must of course be false, but the reasoning itself may be 
sound. If the premises are indisputable, and the reasoning 
from them strictly logical, the result is known and infallible 
truth, — as much so as an axiom. 



PROPOSITIONS NEED NOT BE EORMALLY STATED. 

But it is not necessary that all the propositions in reason- 
ing be form ally stated ; indeed the less of form, ordinarily, 
the better. The old Aristotelian logic has given place to a 
more free and natural method. Men often reason soundly 
and forcibly, who never studied any logical rules, and who 
scarcely know that they are reasoning. Ask them to define 
their propositions, and they do not perhaps know that they 
have any. I once witnessed a striking proof of this. An 
uneducated man had addressed a forcible argument to an 
assembly, on the subject of temperance. Being in some 
doubt respecting one or two of his positions, I subsequently 
requested him to re-state to me the proposition on which 
his main argument depended. He was not aware that there 
was any proposition in the case. I told him my question 
had no reference to the soundness of his reasoning, but to 
his premises. He did not comprehend the import of the 
term. Although, he had no definite idea of what is meant 



o 



274 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

by a proposition or a premise, he was yet a sound and 
forcible reasoner. 

This is no argument against the study of philosophy and 
logic ; for the same man, on other occasions, made such 
ridiculous blunders in his reasoning as to defeat his object. 
It simply proves, that while the reasoner ought, for personal 
conviction, to understand the nature of propositions, and 
know how to put them logically together, he need not make 
a formal array of them. Those propositions which involve 
intuitive truths, or are so obvious as to be universally con- 
ceded, need not be stated at all. They already exist, essen- 
tially, in the hearer's and reader's mind. To be perpetually 
attempting to prove what nobody doubts, setting forth formal 
propositions of self-evident truths, and thus essaying to 
reason profoundly upon the very surface, is a disgusting 
exhibition of weakness and pedantry. 



ORDER OF PROPOSITIONS. 

Still, all reasoning, as we have said, is really made up of 
propositions more or less formal ; and it is evident, from the 
remarks just made, that their order should be dictated by 
association and a natural sense of fitness, rather than by 
any set rules of logic. Such rules help us more to criticise 
than to reason ; they alone never made an eloquent and 
forcible reasoner. The general rule, however, should be 
always observed in reasoning, to begin with the most simple 
and obvious propositions, and gradually rise from them, by a 
natural process, to the more involved. This is important to 
the reasoner himself, as well as to carry conviction to the 
minds of others. In mathematics, there is no other possible 
way ; in moral reasoning, there is no other good way. 

It must never be forgotten, that the object in reasoning 
is, from something assumed as known, to find out what is 
unknown. Unless, therefore, we start with what is clearly 
apprehended and granted, we shall grope in darkness all the 
way, and arrive at only doubt and uncertainty at last. " In 
applying our reason to the investigation of truth," says Dr. 
Abercrombie, " in any department of knowledge, we are, in 



mi 



REASON. 275 

the first place, to keep in mind that there are certain intui- 
tive articles of belief which lie at the foundation of all rea- 
soning. For, in every process of reasoning, we proceed by 
founding one step upon another which has gone before it ; 
and when we trace such a process backwards, we must arrive 
at certain truths which are recognized as fundamental, 
requiring no proof and admitting of none. These are usu- 
ally called First Truths. They are not the result of any 
process of reasoning, but force themselves with a conviction 
of infallible certainty upon every sound understanding, 
without regard to its logical habits or powers of induction. 
The force of them is accordingly felt in an equal degree by 
all classes of men ; and they are acted upon with absolute 
confidence in the daily transactions of life." * 



DIFFERENT KINDS OF REASONING. 

Reasoning may be generically divided into two kinds, 
mathematical and moral. Several earnest philosophers 
have supposed these ultimately resolvable into one and the 
same. They imagine that the apparent difference results 
only from the present imperfect state of language. With 
this view, Liebnitz proposed to frame a language, which 
would be to moral reasoning what the mathematical symbols 
are to mathematical reasoning ; but he died, as some think 
fortunately for science and for his own reputation, before he 
accomplished his purpose. 

Without stopping to discuss this point, it is sufficient to 
say, that, in the present state of philosophy, the division 
here made is natural and convenient. Moral reasoning may 
be subdivided into metaphysical, or that which is confined 
to strictly metaphysical truths ; and moral, more exactly 
so called, or that which is concerned with strictly moral 
truths. But as these more or less involve each other, and 
proceed upon the same general plan, they may be properly 
considered under the same head. 

* Intellectual Philosophy, p. 145. 



276 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



MATHEMATICAL KEASONLNG. 



1. Mathematical reasoning is founded on abstract quanti- 
ties and relations. These being absolute and universal 
truths, they afford no possible ground of variation or error. 
The relation which three bears to ten, for example, is abso- 
lute and universal. It must forever be precisely the same. 
But the relation of three actual substances, or events, to 
ten other actual substances, or events, may vary. 

2. Mathematical reasoning places no reliance on testimony 
or authority. There is no weighing of probabilities, and noth- 
ing is taken on the opinion of others. Every reasoner starts 
from the foundation, and builds with his own intuitions to 
the summit of his conclusions. 

3. In mathematical reasoning, all the terms are exactly 
defined and limited. There is no possible ground of misap- 
prehension. This is one of the particular points at which 
Liebnitz aimed, in his design to institute an exact vocabulary 
of moral definitions, answering to the mathematical. 

4. Mathematical reasoning admits no degrees of evidence. 
A point is absolutely proved, beyond all possible question, 
or it is not proved at all. No possible room can be left for 
a doubt. The result of a mathematical demonstration, is 
what every man in his senses must believe, without a ques- 
tion. 

5. In mathematical demonstration, we never need to 
examine but one side. Whatever proposition is proved to be 
true, its opposite is known to be false, without examina- 
tion. The alternative is so presented, that the truth or 
fallacy of the one proposition necessarily involves the fallacy 
or truth of the other. 

6. Mathematical reasoning proceeds in a single chain of 
demonstration. This chain, every link of which is an intui- 
tion, may be indefinitely extended ; and the final result is 
as certain as the first, and even as certain as the axiom or 
definition itself from which it proceeds. The length of the 
chain does not reduce its strength. If the operation be 
accurate, the result of a problem requiring a million of 
figures, is as certain as that of one requiring but two. 



QUESTIONS. 277 

Such are the most distinguishing characteristics of mathe- 
matical reasoning. It leaves little room for the exercise of 
judgment, except in planning the work. It proceeds, main- 
ly, by direct positive intuitions. Admirable as a mental 
exercise to train the intellect to severe and exact habits, 
yet, prosecuted exclusively, it may tend to disqualify the 
mind for those processes of reasoning in which large demands 
are made upon the judgment, in weighing probabilities and 
estimating evidences, which fall below positive certainty. 
Exclusive mathematicians would be likely to prove very 
indifferent moral reasoners. 

But it may be well to add, that most pupils are in little 
danger of injuring their reasoning powers by too much study 
of mathematics; the danger is, rather, that they will suffer 
for the want of that severe discipline which these studies 
afford. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXV. 

Opening remark ? The Kantian philosophers ? Remark ? Definition 
of reason ? Illustrations i What have modern writers of the empirical 
school adopted ? Stewart's observations ? How do we proceed in reason- 
ing ? How are propositions divided 1 Illustrations of simple ? Complex ? 
Modal? Of what are propositions the materials'? Hypothetical and 
declarative propositions % How may propositions be false and the reason- 
ing from them be sound ? Must all propositions be formally stated 1 
Remark and illustration ? What is said of propositions involving intui- 
tive truths ? What is said respecting order of propositions 1 Object in 
reasoning ? Into how many hinds is reasoning divided ? What is said 
of Liebnitz ? On what is mathematical reasoning founded ? Explain. 
Second peculiarity of mathematical reasoning ? Explain. Third? Re- 
mark 1 ? Fourth? Explain. Fifth? Sixth? Remarks? What is said 
of mathematical reasoning, in conclusion ? 

24 



CHAPTER XXVI. 



MORAL REASONING. 



Let us now briefly notice the distinguishing characteris- 
tics of moral reasoning. 

1. Moral reasoning has, like mathematical, its axioms 
and definitions, but they cannot ordinarily be so exactly 
stated. Instead of shutting us up to an absolute necessity, 
they leave some play for the exercise of the moral in 
our nature. Let the reader refer to any of the moral axioms 
laid down under the head of Intuition, and he will readily 
see the truth of this remark. 

2. Moral reasoning is not concerned with abstractions, 
but with things in the concrete. Its proof has respect to 
matters and events as they actually are or have been, instead 
of those abstract ideas and relations assumed in mathematics. 
Hence the subjects of moral reasoning are, in their nature, 
variable and contingent. 

3. In moral reasoning, we are compelled to place more 
or less reliance on testimony and authority. The due con- 
sideration of these, makes large demands on our judgment, 
and our moral dispositions. For the proof respecting the 
life and work of Jesus Christ, for example, we must depend 
on testimony, — testimony which a perverse judgment and 
an evil disposition may reject. 

4. Moral reasoning admits of degrees. Evidence in 
proof may rise through every stage, from the lowest proba- 
bility to the highest certainty. Any person may find ample 
illustration of this in our courts of justice. As this kind of 
reasoning admits of degrees, it becomes expedient, and often 
necessary, to examine both sides, in order to obtain a satis- 



MORAL REASONING. 279 

factory result. This principle is recognized in all courts of 
justice. 

5. Moral reasoning does not proceed in a single chain, 
but is made up of many arguments combined. These argu- 
ments may sustain some mutual relation, or they may be 
entirely independent of each other. " Each possesses some 
weight, and bestows on the conclusion a certain degree of 
probability ; of all which, accumulated, the credibility of the 
fact is compounded. Thus, the proof, that the Romans 
once possessed Great Britain, is made up of a variety of 
independent arguments ; as, immemorial tradition ; the 
testimony of historians ; the ruins of Roman buildings, 
camps, and walls ; Roman coins, inscriptions, and the like. 
These are independent arguments ; but they all conspire to 
establish the fact." * 

6. The difficulties attending a course of moral reasoning, 
are entirely different from those attending a mathematical 
demonstration. " Those which impede our progress in 
demonstration, arise from the large number of intermediate 
steps, and the difficulty of finding suitable media of proof. 
In moral reasoning the processes are usually short, and the 
chief obstacles by which we are retarded, arise from the 
want of exact definitions to our words ; the difficulty of 
keeping steadily in view the various circumstances on which 
our judgment should be formed ; and from the prejudices 
arising from early impressions and associations." f Other 
difficulties still more serious, connected with the investigation 
of moral and religious subjects, result from aversion to truth 
which conflicts with perverse inclinations. Mathematical 
reasoning encounters no difficulties here ; moral reasoning 
often encounters them at every step. 



RESULTS OF MORAL REASONING MAY BE CERTAIN. 

Logicians have frequently applied the epithet demonstra- 
tive, to mathematical reasoning ; and probable, to moral 
reasoning. The distinction is not happy. A mathematical 

* Hedge's Logic, p. 73. t Hedge's Logic, p. 75. 



280 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

demonstration is as truly a reasoning process as a moral ; 
and a process of moral reasoning may be as convincingly 
demonstrative as a mathematical. It is by a process of 
moral reasoning that we are led to the conviction, that Cyrus 
invaded and took Babylon ; that Hannibal crossed the Alps 
with his army ; that Julius Caesar invaded Gaul ; and yet 
no enlightened mind would hesitate to place its assent to 
these facts by the side of that which it yields to the simplest 
mathematical demonstration. Precisely in the same light, 
we must regard the leading historical facts of Christianity. 



WHAT CONSTITUTES A GOOD REASONER. 

There is a vast difference between men in respect to their 
reasoning powers, and it may be advantageous to notice, 
more particularly, what constitutes a good reasoner. 

1 . An accurate perception of the relations of things. 
When we reason, we bring the several propositions under 
consideration into comparison with each other ; and unless 
we have a just perception of their relations, our reasoning 
will of course be unsound. Suppose, for instance, we take 
the two propositions, Men become intemperate by the use of 
intoxicating drinks ; Peter uses intoxicating drinks. Now, 
the proposition which reason will deduce from these two, 
must depend on the view taken of the relation of the latter 
to the former. If it be supposed to sustain to it the relation 
of a minor to a major, the inference is, Peter will become 
intemperate. This is what logicians call a non sequitur, — 
an unwarrantable inference. The reasoning is false, because 
the true relation of the propositions to each other was not 
perceived. The proposition, that men become intemperate 
by the use of intoxicating drinks, is not the same as saying 
that the use of intoxicating drinks always leads to intemper- 
ance. Hence a comparison of the first two propositions 
does not warrant the third. Peter may be an exception. 
Such inaccuracies tend to destroy confidence in a man's 
reasoning, and render even his sound arguments futile. 
The relations of things must then be carefully noticed, by 
all who aspire to become sound and convincing reasoners. 



MORAL REASONING. 281 

2. A habit of fixed and patient attention. This is neces- 
sary, in order to examine the nature of the propositions, to 
see clearly their relations, and to determine what inferences 
may be logically deduced. Every step in this process 
demands careful attention. We cannot arrive at truth by 
reasoning, as by intuition, with a single flash of the eye ; it 
can be done only by a protracted and steady direction of 
the mind to the several points involved. As an encourage- 
ment to this effort it may be said, that practice will soon 
render it comparatively easy, and that the- habit is one of 
the very highest and most valuable of mental attainments. 

3. A mind well stored with knowledge. Especially, 
whatever has material bearing on the subject at issue, should 
be at command. " Knowledge is power." This is emphati- 
cally true in reasoning. A man might as well undertake to 
build a house without materials, as to frame convincing argu- 
ments without knowledge. " Only fools can be convinced 
by fools," is an old proverb, none the less true for its age 
or roughness. " All reasoning implies a comparison of ideas ; 
or, more properly, a comparison of propositions, or of facts 
stated in propositions. Of course, where there is no knowl- 
edge on any given subject, where there is no accumulation 
of facts, there can be no possibility of reasoning ; and where 
the knowledge is much limited, the plausibility and power 
of the argument will be proportionally diminished." * 

4. An honest love of truth. The habit of arguing on all 
sides of questions, against our convictions, as well as with 
them, for the sake of showing skill, or appearing singular, 
or gaining the dangerous reputation of originality, is ulti- 
mately destructive of sound reasoning. Many a pupil, of 
fine promise, has thus fatally perverted his reasoning powers. 
He who argues in defence of infidelity, for the sake of dis- 
playing his tact, is very liable to become a victim to his own 
snares ; and the lawyer, who is ready to espouse every 
desperate and wicked cause, either for gold or glory, will in 
the event become a splendid demagogue and a skilful tacti- 
cian, but a false and dangerous reasoner. No man can 

* Upham's Philosophy, p. 197. 

24* 



282 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

form the habit, or at least long retain it, of reasoning 
soundly on moral subjects, without honesty of purpose, 
without an eye single to the truth. 

5. A careful exclusion of weak or doubtful arguments. 
Many persons spoil their reasoning, by accumulating all the 
arguments which they can collect, whether good, indifferent, 
or doubtful. The adversary, and even the friend, upon a 
laudable watch for errors, will almost inevitably detect the 
weak points, and make them the occasion of rejecting the 
whole. On a careful revision, the reasoner should exclude 
every argument that is liable to be overthrown, and let those 
which are unanswerable stand in their solitary and massive 
strength. 

6. A modest self -estimation. Due confidence in one's 
self is an essential element of success in all undertakings, 
but the danger usually lies in its excess. This is especially 
true in the matter of reasoning. In nothing are minds of a 
certain cast more prone to pride themselves, than in their 
reasoning powers ; and in nothing are they so sure to fail. 
Having perhaps a richly endowed imagination, a bold tem- 
perament, a poetic inspiration, a passion for originality, so 
long as they confine themselves within the limits of their 
reasoning powers, and rely upon their appropriate strength, 
they pass for what they truly are — distinguished men in 
their way. Nobody questions their ability to reason, for 
they have never exposed it out of the beaten paths ; while 
the boldness and originality of their imagery and manner, 
renders the truth powerful in their hands. 

But no sooner does success betray them into an undue 
self-estimation, than they are emboldened to adventure their 
reasoning powers upon points to which they are incompetent, 
and then they fall even below their just level. Such men would 
be very safe and eminently successful reasoners, did a just 
estimation of themselves keep them within just limits. How- 
ever bold and original men may be in the outbursts of their 
poetry, and in the splendors of their style and manner, in 
respect to those adventures of reasoning, whose object is to 
settle great principles of truth, faith, and duty, only the 
most patient inquiry, the widest search, the most cautious 



MORAL REASONING. 283 

prudence, and the most reluctant consent, can safely deviate 
from the paths on which the maturest wisdom of ages has 
trodden. 



MATHEMATICAL REASONING AS DISTINGUISHING MEN FROM 

BRUTES. 

The human mind, unlike that of brutes, can conceive of 
objects as divided into hundreds, thousands, millions of 
parts, as indefinitely multiplied and extended. Hence the 
noble science of mathematics. With only ten little charac- 
ters, man can reckon, calculate, measure, adjust, all the 
affairs of the great social, political, mercantile, and physical 
world. This he does, by simply applying the abstract num- 
bers, increased, diminished, multiplied, involved and evolved, 
to the various objects in question. To facilitate his progress 
in the higher calculations, he uses letters and other charac- 
ters to represent numerical figures — as in algebra and 
fluxions ; — proceeding thus, he is enabled to measure the 
ocean, to weigh the mountains, to scale the heights of those 
dizzy summits on which the human foot never trod ; to belt 
the globe we inhabit, and determine its relative position and 
movements in the solar system ; ascending the heavens, he 
places the sun and all the planetary orbs that surround it 
in his scale, handling them as very little things, and telling 
all their courses, distances, revolutions, conjunctions, eclipses, 
for ages past and ages coming. What a stupendous reach 
of intellect ! Well may that living and thinking something, 
which we call the human mind, consider the universe its 
home and immortality its birthright, although doomed for 
a season to honor this perishing clay with its presence. 



MORAL REASONING AS DISTINGUISHING MEN FROM BRUTES. 

Brute intellect is wholly occupied with lohysical objects. 
It seems to have no knowledge of any thing but what is 
addressed to the bodily senses. The human mind takes a 
higher and more spiritual range. It performs its humblest 



284 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

task when it operates only upon matter. From the vast 
and glorious kingdom of metaphysical truths, historical facts, 
and moral sentiments, in which the human mind expatiates 
and from which it enjoys its richest repast, the intellect of 
the brute is utterly excluded. The brute is also incapable of 
appreciating the evidence of facts, as furnished by history 
and other means. A present or a remembered object, is 
made sure to him by the present or former testimony of his 
senses ; beyond this, he is without evidence of the existence 
of any object or fact whatever. Thus excluded from all 
knowledge of the beings and events of another world, he is 
of course incapable of religion. The truths and motives of 
religion cannot reach him. 

Man, on the contrary, can so appreciate the evidence of 
distant things, as to be as well assured of them as of the 
place in which he resides. He may be as fully convinced 
that there are such places as Mexico, London, and Calcutta, 
as though he had actually seen them. He may feel as well 
assured that Lisbon was destroyed by an earthquake, that 
Brutus slew Caesar, that the Jews crucified Jesus Christ, 
that Buonaparte was defeated at Waterloo, as if his own eyes 
had witnessed the events. He is thus enabled to act ration- 
ally upon the principle of faith in the verities of Christianity. 
If his evidence of such facts is not of the same kind with 
that furnished by his physical senses, which he shares with 
the brute, it is equally as good, and as binding on his prac- 
tical regard. 

The power of logical argumentation, and of reasoning to 
sound conclusions respecting what has taken place and what 
will take place, as the result of existing and forthcoming 
causes, is perhaps the most lofty and distinguishing preroga- 
tive of the human intellect. By this we are enabled to form 
a sound judgment, and to act wisely respecting the future 
interests of both the present life and the life to come. 



THE HUMAN MIND PROGRESSIVE. 

Brute intellect stands still. Had man been destitute of 
reason, the world would have been now just what it was at 



MORAL REASONING. 285 

the beginning. It would have been only a great wilderness 
of forests and waters ; the very lowest condition of the most 
savage tribes, is immeasurably superior to what would have 
been the condition of our entire race. The brute creation, 
so far as appears, has no more knowledge now than it had 
four thousand years ago ; whereas the human mind is con- 
stantly advancing. It was at first circumscribed within 
very narrow limits. Its eye embraced only the surface of a 
few miles of surrounding earth , and of the concave firma- 
ment. All beyond was in the deep, dark chambers of mys- 
tery. In almost nothing did the human differ from brute 
mind, save in its inborn poivers of acquisition. These were 
the germs of its immortality and pledges of its everlasting 
growth. Awaking to the consciousness of these, it com- 
menced its career. It has now penetrated many of the 
profound mysteries of nature, analyzed its own deathless 
powers and relations, established governments, founded em- 
pires, subdued the world by its inventions, explored sciences, 
soared among the stars ; and was never speeding its way 
into distant regions of discovery with more rapid wing than 
at the present moment. 

How well do these facts harmonize with the revelations of 
Christianity. As a universe of wonders lies before the 
human mind, so that mind has a boundless existence in which 
to explore them. It can grow in knowledge forever, and 
yet never exhaust its treasures. If true to itself, such is its 
high destiny. It will brighten and ascend forever ; its 
splendors will eclipse the sun. 

These considerations should serve to awaken in us just 
convictions of the value of our minds, impress us with the 
magnitude and solemnity of our responsibilities, and induce 
us to conduct like men, and not like the irrational brute, 
that was made only for this world. True to our nature, we 
should rise to the joy and glory of an endless life. 



286 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXVI. 

What is the first distinguishing characteristic of moral reasoning % 
Second? Third? Fourth? Fifth? Illustrate. Sixth 1 State the more 
serious difficulties. May moral reasoning he as conclusive as mathe- 
matical ? Give examples ? The first quality of a good reason er 1 Re- 
marks ? Illustration ? Second quality ? Why is this necessary % 
Remarks 1 Third quality ? Remarks i Fourth quality ? Remarks ? 
.Fi/M quality "? How shown 1 Sixth quality 1 Observations on this point ? 
What is said of mathematical reasoning, as distinguishing men from 
brutes ? As applied to religion ? Of moral reasoning, as distinguish- 
ing men from brutes 1 What is the most distinguishing prerogative of 
the human intellect 1 Comparison of men and brutes as to progress? 
What has the human mind done 1 With what do these facts harmonize ? 
What should these facts serve to awaken ? 



CHAPTER XXVII, 



JUDGMENT. 



Some writers confound judgment with reason. They 
consider it that faculty by which we compare facts or propo- 
sitions with each other, and our mental impressions with 
external objects.* An act of judgment of course implies 
reason ; we cannot judge without reason, neither can we 
reason without judgment. But this does not prove them 
one and the same thing. All our mental powers co-exist in 
fact ; they are essential elements of one and the same mind ; 
and many of our mental exercises necessarily imply and 
involve each other. Still they are distinct exercises, and of 
course imply the existence of the mental powers adequate to 
produce them. The only question is, whether that mental 
act, which we call judgment, is sufficiently peculiar and 
important to deserve a distinct notice. 



JUDGMENT DISTINGUISHED FROM REASON. 

We have already seen that intuition and reason are the 
same ; hence, to identify judgment f with reason, is to con- 
found it with intuition. Now intuition is always true; 
judgment may he false ; intuition is certain ; judgment may 
be uncertain. It is proper to speak of good and bad judg- 

* Abercrombie's Intellectual Philosophy, p. 138. 

t The term is sometimes qualified by applying the adjective intuitive. 
Hence some writers speak of intuitive judgments, as connecting the several 
links in a chain of mathematical demonstration. We might as well speak 
of round squares. The links of a chain of mathematical demonstration 
are connected in our minds by pure intuition. — We do not judge ; we 
know. 



288 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ment ; but to speak of good and bad intuition, is a solecism. 
Intuition knows ; judgment is a substitute for knowledge. 
The judge upon the bench has no intuitive knowledge 
respecting the innocence or guilt of the man under trial ; he 
merely judges him innocent or guilty, in view of evidence. 
Had he the knowledge which intuition gives, he would not 
need to judge. Hence, his judgment is a substitute* for 
such knowledge. And even if we suppose both to exist in 
the same mind, in reference to the same things, they are yet 
distinct, both in their nature and relations.! 



FURTHER REASONS FOR THE DISTINCTION. 

Considering reason as discursive, by substituting the parti- 
ciple and giving the definition usually attached to reasomw#, 
we find objections to confounding the terms in question no 
less serious. Reasoning is a process ; judgment is a decision. 
Reasoning prepares the ivay for a result; judgment is the 
result itself. There are indeed separate judgments, pro- 
nounced on the several facts or evidences, in the course of 
an investigation, until the final issue becomes a general 
judgment embracing the whole. Such are the judgments 
of the civil magistrate on the bench. The judge cannot 
ordinarily compass the whole question at issue with a single 

* " The faculty which God has given man to supply the want of clear and 
certain knowledge, in cases where that cannot be had, is judgment, whereby 
the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree ; or which is the same, any 
proposition to be true or false without perceiving any demonstrative evi- 
dence in the proofs. The mind sometimes exercises this judgment out of 
necessity, when demonstrative proofs and certain knowledge are not to be 
had. Judgment is the presuming things to be so, without perceiving it." 
Locke's Essay, Book IV., Chap, xiv., Sec. iv. 

t " To understanding we apply the epithets strong, vigorous, comprehen- 
sive, profound. To judgment, those of correct, cool, unprejudiced, impar- 
tial, solid. It was in this sense that the word seems to have been 
understood by Pope, in the following couplet : " 

" 'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none 
Go just alike, yet each believes his own." 

Stewart's Philosophy) Vol. II, p. 17. 

All well; but how absurd to speak of a correct, cool, unprejudiced, impar- 
tial, solid intuition ; or of our intuitions varying with our watches. 



JUDGMENT. 289 

decisive act ; he compares and decides, reasons and judges, 
at the various stages of the investigation. The character of 
the witnesses, and the evidences they furnish ; the arguments 
of the respective advocates ; the different circumstances 
bearing directly and indirectly upon the case ; are all sever- 
ally considered, brought into relation to the law, and decided 
upon, as preparatory to the final judgment that is to em- 
brace the whole. 



DEFINITION OF JUDGMENT. 

Considered as a mental attribute, judgment may therefore 
be defined, The 'power of forming a decision in view of facts 
and evidences. We may conceive of a mind, in which this 
element might be wholly wanting. It might attend to all 
the facts and evidences in a given case, compare them with 
a standard, and yet have no power of judgment, — no ability 
to come to any decision whatever, in respect to them. 
Judgment is then a distinct faculty. It is that which, when 
all the circumstances are brought to bear upon a question at 
issue, enables us to decide, in view of them, what the truth 
is, and what ought to be done. 

This is the real meaning of judgment, as understood and 
applied by the mass of mankind. Nor does it essentially 
differ from the meaning attached to it by most philosophers 
and logicians, excepting when they confound it with reason 
or intuition. "In treatises of logic," says Stewart, '''judg- 
ment is commonly defined to be an act of the mind, by 
which one thing is affirmed or denied of another ; a defini- 
tion which, though not unexceptionable, is, perhaps, less so 
than most that have been given on similar occasions. Its 
defect, as Dr. Reid has remarked,* consists in this, — that 

* " The definition commonly given of judgment, by the more ancient 
writers in logic, was, that it is an act of the mind, whereby one thing is 
affirmed or denied of another. I believe this is as good a definition of it 
as can be given." Reed's Philosophy, Vol. III., p. 74. But this excellent 
author immediately admits, that the affirmation or denial is not essential 
to judgment, — that " there may be judgment which is not expressed," that 
ic affirmation and denial are very often the expression of testimony, which 

25 



290 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

although it be by affirmation or denial that we express our 
judgments to others, yet judgment is a solitary act of the 
mind, to which this affirmation or denial is not essential, and 
therefore, if the definition be admitted, it must be understood 
of mental affirmation or denial only ; in which case, we do 
no more than substitute, instead of the thing defined, ano- 
ther mode of speaking perfectly synonymous. The definition 
has, however, notwithstanding this imperfection, the merit 
of a conciseness and perspicuity, not often to be found in the 
attempts of logicians to explain our intellectual operations." * 



VIEWS OF LOCKE AND COUSIN. 

It has been remarked that some writers confound judg- 
ment with other mental faculties. This is doubtless owing 
to the influence of the German school, in which reason 
figures very largely, embracing nearly all that we under- 
stand by intuition and judgment. Locke stands, in this 
respect, on high, independent ground. Cousin complains 
of him in the following language. " Locke founds knowl- 
edge and judgment upon the perception of a relation between 
two ideas, that is to say, upon comparison ; while in many 
cases, these relations and the ideas of relation, so far from 
being the foundation of our judgments and of our cognitions, 
are, on the contrary, the results of primitive cognitions and 
judgments referable to the natural power of the mind, which 
judges and knows in its own proper virtue, basing itself 
frequently upon a single term, and consequently without 
comparing two together in order to deduce the ideas of rela- 
tion." | Here Cousin places in the same category cogni- 
tions and judgments, which Locke is careful to distinguish. 
Cognitions do not necessarily involve any comparing. All 
intuitions are cognitions, and are referable to a " natural 
power of the mind, which knows in its own proper virtue." 

is a different act of the mind, and ought to be distinguished from judg- 
ment." — Ibid. This brings us back to our definition above. 
* Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 18. 

t Elements of Psychology, by Victor Cousin, by Rev. C. S. Henry, 
D. I)., p. 342. 



JUDGMENT. 291 

But judgments, with Locke, are quite another thing. They 
" supply the want of clear and certain knowledge," or cog- 
nitions.* 

VIEWS OF EEID. 

Dr. Reid's view of judgment agrees mainly with our 
definition. He says, " As a judge, after taking the proper 
evidence, passes sentence in a cause, and that sentence is 
called his judgment ; so the mind, with regard to whatever 
is true or false, passes sentence, or determines according to 
the evidence that appears. Some kinds of evidence leave 
no room for doubt. Sentence is passed immediately, without 
seeking or hearing any contrary evidence, because the thing 
is certain and notorious. t In the other cases, there is room 
for weighing evidence on both sides before sentence is passed. 
The analogy between a tribunal of justice and this inward 
tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of 
any man who ever appeared before a judge." % Yet this 
writer unfortunately extends the sphere of judgment to intui- 
tions, and to justify it, calls such mental acts "judgments of 
things necessary." " That three times three are nine ; that 
the whole is greater than a part ; are judgments about things 
necessary. Our assent to such necessary propositions is nofe 
grounded upon any operations of sense, of memory, or of con- 
sciousness, nor does it require their concurrence ; it is unac- 
companied by any other operation but that of conception, 
which must accompany all judgment ; we may therefore call 
this judgment of things necessary, pure judgment."§ This 
"pure judgment" is what Liebnitz and Kant call "pure 
reason," and what we have called intuition. Beid, as we 
have seen, assigns another office to judgment ; why not then 
let intuition have its own? 



* Locke's Essays, Book IV., Ch. xiv.. Sec. iv. 

t It should be observed that the certainty here, is not that of intuition t 
but of irresistible evidence. The mind of the judge may be forced to a 
certain conviction of the prisoner's guilt, not because he has an intuitive 
perception of his crime, but irresistible evidence of it. 

X Essays, Vol. III., p. 76. 

§ Essays, VoL III., p. 78. 



292 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



VIEWS OF STEWART. 

But Dugald Stewart not only admits the more enlarged 
sense of the term, but argues for it. After stating the 
primitive and appropriate sense of the term, he adds, " When 
we give our assent to a mathematical axiom ; or when, after 
perusing the demonstration of a theorem, we assent to the 
conclusion ; or, in general, when we pronounce concerning 
the truth or falsity of any proposition, or the probability or 
improbability of any event, the power by which we are 
enabled to perceive what is true or is false, probable 
or improbable, is called by logicians the faculty of judg- 
ment" " Considered as a technical or scientific term of 
logic, the practice of our purest and most correct writers 
sufficiently sanctions the more enlarged sense in which I 
have explained it ; and if I do not much deceive myself, 
this use of it will be found more favorable to philosophical 
distinctness than Mr. Locke's language, which leads to an 
unnecessary multiplication of our intellectual powers. What 
good reason can be given for assigning one name to the 
faculty which perceives truths that are certain, and another 
name to the faculty which perceives truths that are probable ? 
Would it not be equally proper to distinguish by different 
names the power by which we perceive one proposition to 
be true and another false ? " * 



REMARKS ON THE ABOVE. 

The cases supposed above are not parallel. The percep- 
tion of a truth implies precisely the same assured mental 
state as the perception of a falsehood. The difference 
between the two cases is not in the mind, but in the object 
of perception. But the state of mind in which we perceive a 
truth as certain, is essentially different from that in which 
we perceive it as probable. Here the difference is in the 
mind, not in the object perceived. Or, if it be in the object 

* Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 18. 



JUDGMENT. 298 

perceived, it is in the mind also. The one state implies a 
question to be settled ; the other implies none. The one 
holds the mind in a position for the exercise of judgment ; 
the other excludes all judgment, by shutting out all possible 
question, and fixing the mind at once to a perceived cer- 
tainty. The difference of mental states, and of course the 
difference of mental powers exercised, in these two cases, is 
clearly defined and very important. 

As to the " purest and most correct writers," to whom 
this philosopher refers, as sanctioning his " more enlarged 
sense " of judgment, I have been unable to find any of the 
English language, whose authority often transcends that of 
Dugald Stewart himself. If reference be had to continental 
writers, their nomenclature and classifications are so widely 
different from ours, that the unqualified adoption of any of 
their definitions would mislead us, unless we should make 
an entire revolution of our system. The attempt to incor- 
porate fragments of German philosophy with the philosophy 
of Great Britain, must necessarily prove a failure. But 
Stewart wrote when the Kantian speculations were in the 
height of their glory, and it is no reflection on his intellectual 
eminence, that he was sometimes overawed by their splen- 
dors. 



VIEWS OF BROWN. 

With his usual passion for simplification, Brown of course 
annihilates judgment. " Those who ascribe judgment to 
man," he says, "ascribe to him also another faculty, which 
they distinguish by the name of reason, — though reasoning 
itself is found, when analyzed, to be nothing more than a 
series of judgments. The whole is thus represented as 
something different from all the parts which compose it." * 

Is it then strange that a house should be something differ- 
ent from all the bricks and boards and nails which compose 
it ? We are in the habit of supposing a house a different 
thing from the materials of which it is built. Whatever we 

* Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 522. 

25* 



294 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

may call these materials, we cannot properly call them a 
house. In like manner, whatever may be the elements or 
means of a judgment, they are not the judgment itself. 

Now this same writer tells us that " reasoning is nothing 
more than a series of relative suggestions." * Judgments, 
then, turn out to be relative suggestions. That suggestions 
are more or less concerned in bringing the mind to a state 
of judgment, is undoubted ; but mere suggestion is not 
judgment. The term judgment, whether as applied to the 
decisions of a tribunal, or to matters of taste, or to the ordi- 
nary affairs of life, is not represented by the idea usually 
attached to suggestion ; and if applied to mathematical 
and other self-evident truths, it is equally in fault. A sug- 
gestion may imply doubt and start inquiry, but in self-evident 
truths, there is no room for doubt. 

My apology for saying so much on this point, is in the 
fact, that differing from such high authorities seems to imply 
an obligation to state their views, together with the reasons 
for dissent. 



ADDITIONAL REMARKS. 

In aiming to simplify, men sometimes render plain things 
obscure. In nothing is this more true than in attempts to 
simplify the mental faculties. To call intuition judgment, 
for the sake of simplification, when there is another well- 
defined sphere of judgment to which all men give their 
practical assent, renders complex and obscure what was 
previously simple and plain. Elucidation is not in the few- 
ness of definitions, but in their accuracy. In his attempts 
to simplify the mental faculties, Brown has multiplied words, 
explanations, ingenious speculations, all to the effect of 
involving rather than unfolding the essential laws of mind. 
In an analysis of the mental phenomena, the most instructive 
method is, to relinquish all theory and speculation, take the 
facts as we find them, and give to their several classes the 
names sanctioned by common usage. In this view, consider- 

* Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 523. 



JUDGMENT. 295 

ing judgment sufficiently distinct and important to have a 
name and a place, I have endeavored to give it its due. 



IMPORTANCE 0E A SOUND JUDGMENT. 

This is one of the highest attributes of humanity. It is 
not only one of those which distinguish man from the brute, 
but, more than perhaps any other, it distinguishes man from 
man. Indeed, the proportion of men who possess a thor- 
oughly sound judgment is very small. The term is nearly 
a synonym for that tuisdom, whose price is said to be above 
rubies. The man who judges rightly, and acts as he judges, 
has indeed the priceless treasure. 

The importance of this attribute is felt in all departments 
of life. In the economic, social, civil, political, moral and 
religious world, it holds the balance of destiny, and interests 
of both temporal and eternal moment are suspended upon it. 
It is indeed a crowning attribute of the Supreme Being, 
divested of the single element of uncertainty incidental to it 
in man, and on it are suspended the amazing destinies of 
the finalday. 

Although a man have all other mental endowments in 
highest measure, — although he have the reasoning powers 
of a Butler, the imagination of a Dante, the eloquence of 
a Cicero, without judgment, they will profit him little. 
Whereas, a sound judgment, even in the absence of superi- 
ority in all other qualities, will not only conduct a man well 
through life, and render him a blessing to others, but will 
eventually cause even mediocrity itself to excel. 



CHARACTERISTICS OF A SOUND JUDGMENT. 

That this endowment is possessed by men naturally, in 
very unequal degrees, there can be no question ; and yet 
the difference made by personal education and habits is 
probably greater. The following are the principal elements 
of a sound judgment ; every person has it in his power to 
cultivate them to an almost indefinite extent. 



296 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

1. Impartiality. The person who would have sound- 
ness of judgment, must form the habit of excluding from his 
mind all prejudice, all prepossession, all passion ; and of 
holding it in a balanced position, equally ready to decide in 
the one or the other direction, as evidence shall preponde- 
rate. If he have any interest in the case, he must be careful 
to keep it out of the scale. He who cannot hold the scales 
of a severe and unbending impartiality, is unfit to judge. 

2. Patience. This balanced state of mind must be 
patiently retained, till evidences are fully furnished, facts 
fully disclosed, and brought in relation to the standard of 
judgment. A sound judgment is not, ordinarily, the work 
of a moment. An intuition, a suggestion, a single percep- 
tion, demands no patience. It is as the flash of an eye. 
But a sound judgment is the fruit of time and patience. No 
man is fit to be a judge, in any important matter, who has 
not learned to " let patience have her perfect work." 

3. Memory. As judgment is exercised in view of facts, 
memory is essential. The moment memory falters, so that 
facts bearing on the question slip from the mind, the judg- 
ment suffers. Hence, civil judges, at the advanced age 
when memory fails, are considered incompetent. The only 
remedy for this, is a careful noting down of facts, and a 
repeated recurrence to their bearings and relations. The 
failure of memory is usually the first step towards a faltering 
judgment. All the other elements of a sound judgment 
usually survive this. The disastrous mistakes often made 
by men of business, in advanced periods of life ; the strange 
errors of judgment, so unlike their earlier doings, arise from 
their not remembering all that is material to the business in 
hand. Hence men should distrust their judgment, and let 
caution predominate, as memory fails. 

4. Firmness. Until a man can face consequences, and 
nerve his mind to a straight-forward course, whatever may 
be the result, his judgment is not to be trusted. If he 
flinches, in view of a painful result ; if facts cease to have 
their weight, because they lead to an undesirable issue ; he 
is not a sound judge. There must be a stability, a steadi- 
ness, a resolution of mind, which will follow evidence wher- 
ever it may lead. 



questions. 297 

5. Sincere and ardent love of truth and justice. 
Patience must never degenerate to pusillanimity, nor impar- 
tiality to indifference. No man can wisely judge a matter, 
in which he feels little or no interest. We often hear of 
great coolness of mind, as a mark of sound judgment. But 
the mind may have too much coolness, as well as too little. 
There must ever be an ardent love of truth and justice, and 
in every specific case there should be a felt emotion pro- 
portioned to its importance. It is with the heart that 
man judges aright, as well as with the head. He who 
brings his mind to a decision in a case of life and death, with 
as little emotion as is due to a cause involving a few dollars, 
has not in his soul all the proper elements of a judge. 
Those qualities which should control and guide his feelings, 
have been mentioned above ; the feelings themselves should 
never be wanting. A just judge, is always & feeling judge. 
These last remarks have more special reference to judicial 
tribunals, and to the various higher exercises of judgment, 
but they apply, to some extent, to its more humble and less 
important decisions. 

The relation of judgment to religion is involved in what 
has been said under the head of reason. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXVH. 

With what do some writers confound judgment 1 Remarks ? Con- 
sidering reason as the synonym for induction — what then ? Illustration ? 
Considering reason as discursive, &c. — what then 1 Illustrate. Defini- 
tion of judgment ? Explain. Remarks of Stewart and Reid? Why 
have writers confounded judgment with other mental faculties ? What 
says Cousin and Locke ? Strictures on Cousin ? Views of Reid ? Re- 
mark in the note ? To what does Reid unfortunately extend the sphere 
of judgment 1 — and how defend his so doing? What is said of him in 
reply ? Views of Stewart on this point 1 State the argument in reply to 
Stewart. What is said of the nomenclature of continental writers ? Views 



298 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

of Brown ? Reply to them "? Apology for saying thus much on this 
point, and remarks ? What is said of aiming to simplify 1 ? In what does 
elucidation consist 1 What is said of Brown ? In an analysis of the 
mental phenomena, what is the most instructive method ? What is said 
of the importance of judgment ? For what is the term nearly a synonym r i 
Where is its importance felt 1 Remarks ? First characteristic of a sound 
judgment? Explain. Second? Remarks'? Third ? Remarks ? Fourth? 
Remarks ? Fifth ? Remarks ? 



CHAPTER XXVIII 



IMAGINATION, 



Imagination may be defined, TJie poiver of forming 
ideal or fancied objects. It is believed that this definition 
will be found sufficiently explicit, while it has the advantage 
of most others in point of simplicity. Reid confounds 
imagination with conception.* But there is an obvious and 
important distinction between them. Conception replaces 
in the mind an exact transcript of whatever has been per- 
ceived or felt ; while imagination selects from it whatever is 
preferred, and from this forms a new and fancied object. | 

Hence imagined objects may bear resemblance to objects 

which we have perceived, or they may be wholly unlike 

them. Creations of imagination do not imply any new ele~ 

\ mentary conceptions, but only new and fanciful combinations 

of those previously in the mind. 

* " Conceiving, imagining, apprehending, understanding, having a 
notion of a thing, are common words, used to express that operation of 
the understanding, which the logicians call simple apprehension. Logicians 
define simple apprehension to be the bare conception of a thing, without 
any judgment or belief about it." Reid's Works, Vol. II., p. 138. 

t " The business of conception, according to the account I have given of 
it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt or per- 
ceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modifying our conceptions, 
by combining the parts of different ones together, so as to form new 
wholes of our own creation. I shall employ the word imagination to ex- 
press this power." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 80. 



300 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



IMAGINATION AN ULTIMATE FACULTY. 

Most persons are somewhat surprised and disappointed, 
when told by philosophers that imagination is not an ultimate 
faculty of our mental constitution ; but that what we call 
acts of imagination are only the joint operation of other 
faculties. Thus Stewart, for instance, says, " Imagination 
is formed by a combination of various faculties;'' "it 
includes conception, abstraction, judgment, taste or fancy." 
Again he says, " What we call the power of imagination is 
not the gift of nature, but the result of acquired habits, 
aided by favorable circumstances. It is not an original 
endowment of mind, but an accomplishment formed by expe- 
rience and situation." According to this, all the difference 
between any ordinary genius and a Raphael or a Milton, is 
not due to "the gift of nature," but "is the result of 
acquired habits, aided by favorable circumstances." * I am 
confident that most readers will agree with me, in dissent- 
ing from this view. 

Whether we have an ultimate principle in our mental 
constitution, which we call imagination, or whether what 
we call imagining, is only the combined action of several 
other faculties, is a question of sufficient interest to claim 
some examination. 



To illustrate his view, Stewart says, " Let us consider 
the steps by which Milton must have proceeded in creating 
his imaginary Garden of Eden. When he first proposed to 
himself that subject of description, it is reasonable to sup- 
pose that a variety of the most striking scenes which he had 
seen, crowded into his mind. The association of ideas sug- 
gested them, and the power of conception placed each of 
them before him with all its beauties and imperfections. 

* Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 269. Also, p. 315. 



IMAGINATION. 301 

In every natural scene, if we destine it for any particular 
purpose, there are defects and redundancies, which art may 
sometimes, but cannot always, correct. But the power of 
imagination is unlimited. She can create and annihilate ; 
and dispose at pleasure, her woods, her rocks, and her 
rivers. Milton, accordingly, would not copy his Eden from 
any one scene, but would select from each the features 
which were most eminently beautiful. The power of abstrac- 
tion enabled him to make the separation, and taste directed 
him in the selection." " From what has been said, it is suffi- 
ciently evident, that imagination is not a simple power of the 
mind, like attention, conception, or abstraction ; but that it 
is formed by a combination of various faculties." * 



REMARKS ON THE ABOVE. 

1. This work of Milton was one engaging all his mental 
powers ; — we scarcely know which most. Imagination 
figures conspicuously amongst them, but they are so involved, 
that they cannot be easily distinguished. In order fairly to 
test the question, whether a given power is an ultimate or 
simple attribute of the mind, we must take some of its ulti- 
mate or simplest acts. 

2. The other mental powers, attention, conception, abstrac- 
tion, according to the above illustration, are also complex. 
For, in the view of this writer, conception implies something 
previously perceived or felt ; and this of course implies atten- 
tion. But if we suppose the materials prepared for the 

I exercise of a given power, so that nothing is wanting but 
the exercise of that power itself, we may regard attention, 

j conception, abstraction, as simple attributes ; nor does it 
appear, in this view, that imagination is not entitled to the 
same rank. For I must add, 

3. In the above illustration, the essential thing is still 
| wanting ; that is, the archetype or model. Conception 
' places before the mind the vast world of objects which it has 

perceived ; abstraction selects from them ; judgment or 

* Intellectual Philosophy, Yol. I, p. 269. 

' 26 



302 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

taste is concerned in directing the selection and combina- 
tion ; but where is the pattern, — the form or image, — 
according to which these elements are to be shaped ? Here 
is the specific work of imagination. 

We cannot indeed imagine, without the materials fur- 
nished by other mental powers ; neither can we, without the 
same, attend, conceive, abstract. If the mind be duly fur- 
nished, merely to imagine something, seems to be as simple 
and direct an act, as, when thus furnished, to attend to 
something, or to conceive or abstract something. Under the 
glow of excitement, the mind imagines in a twinkling of the 
eye ; a thousand fancied forms flit before it ; according to 
the nature of the excitement, images of terror, of beauty, 
of joy, dance along ; and the mind's imaginings seem to 
outrun all its other acts. Hence, this power or proneness 
to imagine or fancy, seems as primitive and natural to 
the mind, as its power or proneness to attend, conceive, or 
abstract. 



SIMPLE ACTS OF IMAGINATION. 

When a person imagines a sound, a taste* a smell, he 
does not necessarily abstract that from all other things ; that 
may be the only subject of thought. Abstracting of course 
implies the presence to the mind of two or more objects. 
Abstracting is selecting; and evidently we cannot select, 
unless two or more things are in our thoughts, from which 
the selection is made. The simplest act of imagination, — and 
I do not see why it is not as simple as any other mental 
act, — is that in which an individual thing is imagined. To 
call that act abstraction, conception, conjecture, or any thing 
but imagination, is contrary to the most accredited use of 
language. 

If it be asked, why the mind thus imagines, the answer 
is, Because it was made to do so. It is its nature to do it ; 
as much as it is to perceive, abstract, reason. If it be asked, 
why a person imagines one thing rather than another ; the 
answer is, because his susceptibility to the one is more lively 
than to the other. Constitutional temperament, education, 



IMAGINATION. 303 

or other circumstances, may occasion a special susceptibility 
to particular objects. The lover has his peculiar imaginings ; 
the miser has his ; the hungry man imagines food ; the 
thirsty, drink; — all men imagine, as susceptibility prompts. 



IMAGINATION NOT CONFINED TO OBJECTS OF SENSE. 

Reid, Addison, and some others, have limited the province 
of imagination to objects of sight. Stewart and other wri- 
ters extend its province not only to all objects of sense, but 
to all the objects of human knowledge.* 

The word image, as understood by the early writers, did 
not import any thing exactly physical, but a sort of ghostly 
existence. Hence imagination and fancy, as used in the 
schools, are nearly synonymous. The phantom, from which 
comes the word fancy, was a mere airy thing, with which the 
senses had nothing to do. Giving this latitude to imagina- 
tion, she takes wings and soars into the heights of the super- 
sensuous ; she ranges the spirit- world, as well as this. A 
man imagines an angel in his room : must he needs give 
that angel a material form ? He simply imagines, we will 
suppose, the presence and design of the spirit ; he has noth- 
ing to do with its form. It is perhaps the spirit of some 
departed friend, that he imagines present with him. If any 
man assert that the mental act is not imagination, unless the 
spirit is clothed with a form, the common sentiment and 
usage of mankind, both learned and ignorant, is against him. 

Identifying ghost with spectre, naturally leads to the idea 
of something visible, when a ghost is imagined. Ghost is a 

* " The sensible world, it must be remembered, is not the only field 
where imagination exerts her powers. All the objects of human knowl- 
edge supply materials to her forming hand ; diversifying, infinitely, the 
works she produces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially 

t uniform." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 206. This is no doubt true ; 
but it is inconsistent with what the same writer had previously maintained. 

I He confined perceptions to objects of sense ; conceptions, to what we have 
perceived or felt ; and imaginations, to conceptions. His theory, therefore, 
restricts imagination to things seen and felt ; but when that is forgotten, 

' he virtually fells on the precise view of imagination which I have main- 

I tained. His foundation was too narrow for his superstructure. 



304 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Saxon word, denoting a spirit. 'Spectre is of Latin origin, 
denoting something made visible, the appearance of a ghost. 
Now a man may imagine not only a spectre — a spirit made 
visible — but the spirit itself, without the visibility. 



IMAGINATION MAY BE WHOLLY CREATIVE. 

When we hear of something interesting in a place, even if 
we never heard of the place before, and have no knowledge 
of it by description, we are yet apt to form a picture of it in 
our minds. What we imagine may be wholly unlike the 
place, and no reason can be given why one picture rather 
than another is formed, except that the feelings and associa- 
tions of the mind, at the time, are such as naturally give 
rise to it. The picture springs up spontaneously out of 
materials in the mind, as passion or circumstances prompt.* 

In the mind of him who has a highly creative imagination, 
thousands of fancies thus involuntarily come and go. If, 
then, he bring his will to bear ; store his mind with knowl- 
edge ; call his other powers into service, to select, combine, 
arrange, and perfect his imaginings ; the result may be 
some great original work, like that of Homer, Milton, or 
Dante. 



IMAGINATION MAY BE CREATIVE ONLY IN PART. 

Every child who studies geography, forms some picture 
of London, Constantinople, Rome. He never saw these 
places, nor, we will suppose, any picture of them. But they 
have been described to him. His imagination is thus sustained 
and guided by the description. It is creative only in part. 
He imagines how Rome looks, but the accuracy, not to say 

* A child bred in the country, on reading the account of Christ's inter- 
view with the woman at the well, would be apt to imagine a well situated 
in a yard, much like his father's, wanting the pole and bucket. A child 
bred in the city, and having no knowledge of the country well, would 
probably imagine something like a deep cistern or reservoir, wanting the 
pump or hydrant. From those materials, whatever they he, which pre- 
vious perceptions have furnished, imagination forms her picture. 



IMAGINATION. 305 

beauty, of the picture in his mind, depends more upon the 
accuracy of the description and his power of apprehension, 
than upon the fertility of his imagination. Hence persons 
of the most poetic imagination, do not always form the most 
accurate ideas concerning places of which they read. Yet 
without some imagination, they could form no idea of them 
whatever. 



DESCRIPTIVE IMAGINATION. 

In the case above, a man imagines how a place looks 
which he never saiv ; in this case, imagination helps him to 
describe a place which he has seen. Conception, memory, 
and imagination, seem to be so closely allied here, that Reid 
and some others make them all one. But the distinction 
should not be lost. A man may have an excellent memory, 
and yet, for want of imagination, describe badly. As only 
a small part of the things constituting the object to be 
described can be noticed, imagination assists in selecting 
and arranging them, and throws over the whole the embel- 
lishments of fancy, so as to produce the most happy effect. 

We are thus enabled to understand how imagination con- 
tributes to poetry and eloquence, to the fine arts, to science, 
morals, and religion. In all these she is a handmaid of true 
and effective genius. 

IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO POETRY. 

Imagination is most creative and original in poetry. 
Some kinds of descriptive and historic poetry, whose design 
is to detail facts somewhat enlivened with imagination, do 
not admit of her boldest flights. The same may be said of 
most didactic poetry. But in poetry where the very facts 
are, as it were, created by the mind of the writer, like those 
of Dante and Milton, imagination performs her most charac- 
teristic and glorious achievements. Compelled to walk in 
paths hitherto untrodden, divested of all incumbrances, 
restricted only by taste and judgment, she takes wings and 
26* 



306 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

soars at large through the realms of heaven, earth, and hell. 
From these three worlds, and all others which she can create 
or explore, she gathers treasures to enrich her verse. As 
she plunges into the mysterious depths, or ascends the giddy 
heights, the novelty of her position kindles yet more her 
fires ; the powers of creativeness are thus stimulated to the 
utmost; strange and yet stranger fancies rise, — the won- 
derful, the beautiful, the grand, the awful, come rushing in, 
to reward the adventurer with those original and bold con- 
ceptions that glow upon his pages. It must be a sturdy 
mind that can read poetry thus produced, and not feel 
itself kindle with something of its delicious inspiration. 
This is poetry — real poetry — and the highest style of 
imagination. 



IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO OTHER KINDS OF ELEGANT 
COMPOSITION. 

In other kinds of elegant composition, imagination often 
figures scarcely less, — not so sustained, not so adventurous, 
but equally beautiful and sublime. There are passages in 
the prose writings of English, German, French, and Ameri- 
can authors, as truly the work of creative imagination, as 
any thing found in Dante or Milton. They are the brilliant 
flashes, the glowing and startling pictures, which rouse our 
feelings, awaken our admiration, relieve the tedium of sober 
facts and dull commonplaces, and make us love to go on 
with the author. 

But where there is a redundancy of such passages, or 
they are evidently forced in, or ambitiously studied, as the 
writer's chief dependence, they become as offensive, as, 
under other circumstances, they are pleasing. Hence, only 
persons of creative and lively imagination, should attempt 
this style of writing. There are other kinds, in which they 
may excel, equally honorable and important. 



IMAGINATION. 307 



IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO ELOQUENCE. 

No man can be truly eloquent, without imagination of a 
high order. Knowledge, logic, reasoning powers, however 
important, cannot alone make a man eloquent. Let there 
be two men of precisely the same logical powers, the one of 
a high order of imagination, the other possessing almost 
none, and while an audience will sleep under the demonstra- 
tions of the latter, they will be electrified and swayed by 
the eloquence of the former. Even the sturdy juryman and 
the wary judge, are unnerved and taken captive by the per- 
suasive charms of imagination. Men who have little of it 
themselves, are yet delighted with it in others. There is 
something in every human mind, which makes it delight in 
the brilliant creations of fancy ; and when the mind is thus 
pleased, it is in a favorable state to be convinced and swayed 
by him who has thus gratified it. We throw ourselves, 
almost unconsciously, into the hands of those who please us. 
And then, again, the respect we feel for the talent, which 
can at will call up such splendid creations of imagery, has 
no small influence in gaining our confidence. The man 
who thus pleases us, and secures our respect and admiration 
for his talents, needs but little logic to bring us to his views. 
It is indeed almost surprising to observe, with what slender 
arguments a man of brilliant imagination will carry his 
points. 

Thus the pulpit, the forum, the bar, owe much of their 
power to this noble faculty. There is a fascination in her 
embellishments, an eloquence in her appeals, which makes 
way through the sternest philosophy and gains the most 
stubborn will. If learned infidels went scores of miles to 
hang with raptures upon the lips of Whitefield, it was not 
less because he wielded the power of a burning imagination 
than of a devout enthusiasm. Without it, the piety of a 
martyr, joined with the logic of a Butler, cannot make a 
man truly eloquent. Although an accurate logician, a sound 
reasoner, a faithful expounder of facts, unless he can throw 
something of the creations of his own fancy into his work, 



308 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

he will be dull and tedious. It was when enthusiasm kin- 
dled in the eye, and imagination, like lightning in the cloud, 
flashed forth with the thunder of eloquence, that Demos- 
thenes, and Chatham, and Patrick Henry, carried all hearts 
with them. 



THE RELATION OP IMAGINATION TO THE FINE ARTS. 

When the painter is a mere copyist, there is little demand 
on imagination. There is perhaps more in painting from 
nature, than in repeating a picture already made ; but when 
the object to be copied is before him, whether it be the pic- 
ture, or the original, the work in hand is more a trial of 
accuracy of observation, judgment, and mechanical skill, 
than of imagination. Persons of dull imagination are some- 
times excellent copyists. The same is mostly true of sculp- 
ture ; although this art is, perhaps, more imaginative. 
But when painting and sculpture have reference to original 
creations of fancy, the case is quite different.* 



RELATION OF IMAGINATION TO SCIENCE. 

As we arrive at results in natural science by a severe 
induction of facts, it might seem to afford little play to 
imagination. But her assistance is of the greatest utility 
in framing those theories which guide our inquiries, and in 
creating in anticipation those beautiful structures, after 
which the inductions of science are striving. Thus the 
mind is guided, cheered, sustained, on its way to the ima- 
gined goal. The man in search of some new truth or law 
in science, is like the adventurer ploughing through tedious 

* "As far as the painter aims at copying exactly what he sees, he may 
be guided mechanically hy general rules ; and lie requires no aid from 
that creative genius which is characteristic of the poet. When the his- 
tory or the landscape painter indulges his genius, in forming new combi- 
nations of his own, he vies with the poet in the noblest exertions of the 
poetical art." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 271. 



QUESTIONS. 309 

and perilous seas, to reach some happy country, seen as yet 
only by his imagination. Had Columbus been without 
imagination, he would never have discovered America. 
Had Archimedes, Newton, La Place, Harvey, and Davy, 
been destitute of this noble quality, those splendid achieve- 
ments in science would not have been by them made. 
Imagination, fearless and winged, goes before, to open and 
guide the way. True, the more steady and exact steps of 
induction must needs follow, to chastise her wanderings and 
rectify her mistakes, but she has done an invaluable service 
in leading forth induction to this work. Accordingly, men 
distinguished in scientific discoveries, have usually been 
men of vigorous and original imagination. But the converse 

# O O CD 

is not always true. Men may have intense imagination, 
but lack the patience of detail and soundness of judgment 
requisite to success in scientific pursuits. 

Even in the abstract science of mathematics, imagination 
has more to do than some suppose ; for, as diagrams and 
other visible signs assist to carry forward processes of 
demonstration, so imagination, by creating forms to abstract 
truths, gives them a kind of visible reality, by which the 
mind can the better apprehend and reason upon them. It 
is a great mistake to suppose that mathematics and imagina- 
tion are at variance. All the mental poivers harmonize 
together and assist each other. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

"What is imagination ? Remarks ? Have all writers considered it an 
ultimate faculty ? What is said of Stewart's view 1 State his illustra- 
tion. First remark upon it 1 ? Second? Third? What is necessary in 
order to imagine? Is the same necessary in order to conceive, abstract, 
&c. ? What does merely to imagine something seem to be ? Remarks ? 
What is said of simple acts of imagination ? What does abstraction imply ? 



810 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Is this necessarily involved in imagining ? "What is the simplest act of 
imagination 1 Why does the mind imagine thus 1 Why does a person 
imagine one thing rather than another 1 Illustrations ? How have Reid, 
Addison, and others, limited imagination 1 Stewart and others ? Sub- 
stance of the note 1 What is said of image, &c. ? Imagining a spirit ? 
Ghost and spectre 1 May imagination be wholly creative ? Illustrations ? 
What is said of him who has a highly creative imagination ? Instances 
in which imagination is creative only in part ? What is said of descrip- 
tive imagination ? Its subserviency to poetry ? To other kinds of ele- 
gant composition ? To eloquence ? To the fine arts 1 To natural 
science ? To the abstract science of mathematics ? 



CHAPTER XXIX. 



IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND 
RELIGION. 

Probably none of the mental faculties has a more direct 
and powerful influence upon the moral and religious charac- 
ter, than the imagination. Rightly used, it purifies, ele- 
vates, ennobles ; — perverted, it defiles, debases, ruins. 
Few consider at how many points it touches and moves the 
hidden springs of character. It is early developed, and it 
begins to produce its effects at the very dawn of intellect. 
Children no sooner begin to perceive and to think, than they 
begin to imagine. Let us then briefly notice the influence 
of imagination as concerned, first, in the formation of an 
irreligious and vicious character; and, secondly, in the 
formation of a Christian character. 



IMAGINATION PERVERTED. 

There is a powerful reciprocity of action between the 
imagination and the moral feelings and purposes. They 
mutually purify or corrupt each other. Those things with 
which one suffers his imagination to be conversant, are per- 
petually imparting, as it were, their own character to his 
mind, and gaining an ascendancy over him. Thus, the man 
devoted to sensual pleasure, sends abroad his imagination 
in pursuit of materials to gratify his grovelling desires. 
Whenever he is relieved from the pressure of care, this busy 
agent renews her service, and paints to him, on living can- 
vas, every variety of scenes and objects adapted to please 



312 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and to move his sensual passions. His passions, thus ex- 
cited, beget a purpose to gratify them. 

This purpose, itself vicious, occasions many other vicious 
purposes and many false deeds, on the way to the final 
accomplishment of its object. Thus does the unhappy vic- 
tim of crime become more and more involved in guilt, until 
it becomes too late to retrieve his folly. 



INORDINATE LOVE OF WEALTH. 

The inordinate love of wealth, is often greatly due to 
the influence of a perverted imagination. This faculty is 
employed in picturing scenes of worldly distinction, fashion, 
gaiety, abundance, apparent ease and importance, until the 
heart is stirred with an ardent desire for these things. The 
person supposed sees only the outside, and that at a dis- 
tance. Imagination paints to him only the brilliant and 
fascinating part of the picture. He cannot look within, 
upon the real wretchedness that frequently inhabits the 
dwellings of ill-gotten and misused abundance ; for it is the 
world's policy to expose only the bright and gay side. 
Hence these imposing objects gradually assume, in his 
mind, a paramount importance. His thoughts, desires, pur- 
poses, incline more and more to centre upon them. The 
hours of business, the hours appointed for sleep, the hours 
due to domestic enjoyment, yes, even the hours of the holy 
Sabbath, become at last alike desecrated to the all-absorbing 
pursuit of gain. 

Thus does the man by degrees become a miser. The 
objects for which he at first desired wealth are lost sight of; 
he leaves one, another, and another of them behind, in his 
ardent pursuit of wealth itself. The means become the 
end. At first, he desired wealth for the ease, luxuries, 
refinements, and social enjoyments, to which it ministers ; 
but as he rises in wealth, and reaches the amount to which 
he at first aspired, his imagination, more rapid than his 
gains, holds before him other arid higher ends to be obtained. 
Some person has yet more than he ; and the glory of being 
highest in wealth, is a prize too tempting for a perverse 



IMAGINATION AS BELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 313 

imagination to overlook, in her cunning work of enslaving 
the soul. 



THE LOVE OF POWER AND FAME. 

Not only do the licentious, the envious, the covetous, 
kindle the flame of their passion by the aid of imagination, 
but the lust of power and fame is, in a great measure, 
indebted to the same means. It is in no small measure 
through the influence of a perverted imagination, mocking 
them with phantoms of expected glory, that the Alexanders, 
the Caesars, the Napoleons, and others of like spirit, have 
been incited to rise, tread down the nations, and spill human 
blood like water. Would the renowned son of Philip, or 
would Napoleon have done as he did, had he not been led 
by the illusion of a perverted imagination ? It is by the 
same illusion that the less renowned, but perhaps not less 
wicked spirit of the highway robber and of the midnight 
assassin, is moved and emboldened to its horrid deeds. 



YOUTH IN CITIES. 

A perverted imagination ruins many of the youth in those 
towns and cities, in which character is peculiarly exposed 
by temptations to vice. The imagination first lingers, per- 
haps, amid the fascinations of the theatre, until it enkindles 
a desire and gives rise to a purpose to attend it ; other 
scenes of pleasure are there opened ; the youth indulges 
first his eye, then his appetite. Passion is thus inflamed 
and rendered too violent for reason to control. Next, the 
company of the riotous is sought ; of course, means must be 
obtained to meet his expenses, and he is thus tempted to 
wrong his employer. The foundations of character are at 
length subverted ; moral integrity has gone ; complete reck- 
lessness and abandonment to vice follow, and perhaps an 
untimely grave hides a curse from the world. Such is the 
brief sad history of not a few youth, — youth of fair promise, 
ardent temperament, lively susceptibilities ; some of them, 
27 



314 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



perhaps, of the finest natural genius and most ingenuous 
dispositions, who have been ruined by yielding to the allure 
ments of depraved imagination. 






VICIOUS LITERATURE. 






Many can bear witness to the almost fatal ascendancy 
which a perverted imagination, in love with fictitious writings 
of a corrupting nature, has at some periods obtained over 
them. At those periods in life when reason was most feeble, 
if susceptible to the fascinations of imagination wrought into 
the forms of fictitious tales, corrupt and bewitching romance 
has led them quite astray from the truthful world ; it has 
beguiled them of the substantial treasures of intellectual 
and moral wealth, for which the rational mind was made, 
and amused them with the gay dreams and pictures of fancy, 
until they were nearly unfitted for the sober realities and 
pure enjoyments of life. 



IMAGINATION RIGHTLY EMPLOYED. 

No sooner does a regenerate imagination, having broken 
away from her corrupting associations, become associated 
with objects of moral purity, than she begins to act as power- 
fully on the mind to elevate it, as she previously did to 
debase it. It is by her aid, co-operating with that of mem- 
ory, that the Christian expatiates in thought over the past 
and prospective glories of the Redeemer's kingdom, and 
thus enjoys his richest repast of devout meditations ; that 
he converses with the good and great of other ages, sympa- 
thizes with their conflicts and triumphs, and imbibes some- 
thing of their spirit ; that he becomes a member of the 
illustrious family, which alone of all the families of the earth 
was counted worthy to survive the flood, and participates of 
their faith, fidelity, and reward ; that he becomes a brother 
and companion of all those noble men, whose names form so 
bright a roll on the sacred pages of antiquity ; — and, more 
than all, that he lives in his thoughts and feelings with the 



IMAGINATION AS BELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 315 

conflicts and victories of him, who, after an earthly life of 
more than earthly wisdom, passed through the grave un- 
harmed to a throne of immortality in the heavens. Thus 
do his affections, his purposes, his hopes, become more and 
more pure, elevated, ennobling. 

It is by the aid of the same imagination that he lives, in 
anticipation, amidst the happy scenes of future days — the 
regained beauties of paradise blooming over all lands ; and 
perhaps he seldom bows the knee in homage to his Maker, 
or approaches the sacramental board, but imagination carries 
him even beyond the scenes of the present world, connecting 
the duty in which he engages with its consequences in 
eternity. 

It is thus evident, that the relation of imagination to 
morals and religion is exceedingly extensive and important. 
In all the ways above specified, and in numerous others, it 
serves to enliven the feelings, purify the affections, elevate 
the purposes, and enrich the whole soul. Persons of vivid 
imagination, when it is duly disciplined and rightly applied, 
have thus a great advantage over those whose imagination 
is dulL 



discipline of the imagination. 

From what has been said, it is obvious that no faculty 
needs to be placed under a more vigilant discipline than this. 
Like that mighty element, fire, — with which it is often 
compared, — it is a useful servant, but a dangerous master. 
Few conditions are more perilous, than that of the youth 
over whom imagination has gained ascendancy. He is like 
a ship in a gale, without a helm. The greatest caution 
should therefore be exercised in the development and growth 
of this faculty. 



WORKS OF IMAGINATION. 

Works of imagination should never be read without due 
regard to their character and to the condition of the mind. 



316 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

An indiscriminate reading of fictitious tales, in every stage 
of mental growth, can hardly fail to be ruinous. Yet the 
imagination, no less than the other faculties, ought to be 
cultivated ; and for this purpose, specimens of chaste litera- 
ture, of the highest imaginative cast, should at suitable times 
be carefully studied. They should be taken up, not merely 
to pass an idle hour, but to engage the freshest energies of 
the mind. 

The great error is, that imagination is usually made a 
mere plaything. Those hours only are devoted to it, which 
are good for nothing else. It was not by so doing, that 
Milton and Shakspeare became what they were. The 
name of Homer could never have been made immortal, by a 
mere passive indulgence of that noble power which is so 
vividly impressed on the pages of the Iliad. Generally 
speaking, imagination indulged, enfeebles and vitiates the 
mind ; imagination disciplined, strengthens and exalts it. 



HOW WORKS OF IMAGINATION SHOULD BE STUDIED. 

At the proper stage of education, select portions from the 
most brilliant works of imagination should not only be read, 
but studied; studied, not with a primary view to philo- 
sophical analysis, but to imbibe the spirit of the writer, enter 
into a vivid sympathy with his conceptions and feelings, and, 
on the wings of his imagination, to soar and exult with him. 
The student should seek to feel and possess the writer's 
power, before he curiously pries into the secret of it. Wri- 
ters of the most brilliant imagination sometimes know very 
little of analysis ; and the reader invigorates and enriches 
his own mind, by generously feasting it upon the luxuries 
proffered by another's, before inquiring into their nature and 
origin. 

There are two ways of studying and admiring the beauties 
of a rose ; the one, that of picking it into pieces and examin- 
ing its several parts ; the other, that of gazing upon it with 
steadfast eye as a whole, and of smelling its delicious odors ; 
that of dwelling upon its wonderful structure, its blended 
beauties, its admirable adaptation to its end, — until the 



> 



IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 317 

mind realizes, if I may say so, a sympathy with the Being 
who made it. The latter method illustrates the way in which 
the student, who would derive most advantage, should first 
study an author. But this is not the act of an idle hour. 
The potent stimulus of highly imaginative works will indeed 
suffice to excite the mind, in its more sluggish moods ; (and 
here is the reason why they are, in such moods, so often 
resorted to) ; but this is all, in such passive mental states, 
that they can do. Like the influence of stimulating drinks 
upon the man who needs the very opposite stimulus — that 
of active exercise — they leave their subject weaker, rather 
than stronger. Only those books which were written in an 
idle hour, can be suitably read in an idle hour. It is only 
when those sublime passages, which intensely taxed the wri- 
ter's genius, are met by the reader with a corresponding 
mental activity, that his soul is truly raised, enlarged, 
enriched, and made permanently to possess something of its 
teacher's power. 

A careful analysis, both of the mental and rhetorical 
qualities of the writer, should be subsequently made by the 
student, if he would realize the highest advantage ; espe- 
cially if he contemplate authorship himself. 

Imagination thus cultivated, sustains to morals and 
religion a relation scarcely less important than that of the 
highest developments of reason itself. Those moralists and 
preachers, whose imaginations have been thus trained and 
furnished, other things equal, have ever wielded the most 
powerful influence over the consciences, the affections, and 
the wills of their fellow-men. Not only have they exerted 
a benign influence over their own generation, but in their 
essays, their allegories, their songs, their discourses, they 
continue to live through all time, regenerating the affections 
and moulding the characters of men. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 

If what has been said be true, the imagination holds a 
rank scarcely second to any in the mental constitution. To 

27* 



318 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

give it early development and a right direction, is then of 
the highest importance. Being an original element of the 
mind, it is of course possessed by all men in a normal state, 
although, like other powers, in an unequal degree. After 
all, the inequality may be less due to nature than to culture. 
Thousands of men, of the most brilliant natural genius, have 
lived and died unknown. Others, who have become distin- 
guished, would have lived and died equally unknown, but 
for some incident which early called forth their powers and 
enkindled their enthusiasm. Among the means most favora- 
ble to the development and right direction of imagination, 
are the following. 

1. Early attention to natural scenery. Let the 
child be particularly induced to notice whatever is beautiful, 
grand, and sublime, in nature. Let him be taught to gaze 
admiringly upon the glories of the setting sun, as it sinks to 
rest curtained with its gorgeous drapery of gilded clouds ; 
let him often turn his eyes upward to the splendors of the 
evening sky, study the mysterious face of that moon, and 
hold high converse with the stars ; let him look off upon the 
wide ocean, listen to the roar of its billows, and watch its 
majestic movements ; let him be taught to notice the sublime 
and the beautiful in lofty mountains, majestic rivers, and 
pleasing landscapes ; — in a word, let his attention be so 
directed to whatever is great, sublime, awful, mysterious, 
delightful, as to excite his admiration, call up his sense of 
the marvellous, and enkindle his enthusiasm. Let all these 
things be so associated with their Maker, as to lead the 
enraptured mind " from nature up to nature's God," and 
whatever of imagination there is, will hardly fail to develope 
itself and to take a religious direction. 

2. Reading books highly imaginative. This has 
been anticipated. Abraham Cowley, a writer scarcely infe- 
rior to any that Great Britain has ever produced, for 
beauty and brilliancy of imagination, thus describes the 
manner in which he came to be what he was : "I remem- 
ber when I began to read, and take some pleasure in it, 






IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 319 

there was wont to lie in my mother's parlor (I know not by 
what accident, for she herself never in her life read any 
other book but of devotion ;) but there was wont to lie 
Spenser's works ; this I happened to fall upon, and was 
infinitely delighted with the stories of the knights, and 
giants, and monsters, and brave houses, which I found every 
where there, (though my understanding had little to do with 
all this ;) and, by degrees, with the tinkling of the rhyme, 
and dance of the numbers ; so that I think I had read him 
all over, before I was twelve years old. With these affec- 
tions of mind, and my heart wholly set upon letters, I went 
to the university."* 

Similar effects are often produced upon the young mind, 
by reading Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. In the lives 
of Dante, Milton, Shakspeare, Scott, and other men of 
remarkable genius, we find that the early reading of books 
vividly impressed with the author's imagination, had much 
to do with developing and directing their own. 

3. Hearing and telling good stories. Imagination 
early excites a love of stories ; — this love should not be 
rebuked on the one hand, nor suffered to run wild on the 
other. It should be both encouraged and guided. It is a 
pity that the delicate task of shaping the imagination of 
children should be so often committed to ignorant and un- 
principled nurses. The stories which children hear and are 
allowed to tell, should be conceived by minds of the highest 
order of imagination — chaste, refined, sparkling — they 
should be in the main true to nature, should have complete- 
ness and finish, should tend to invigorate all the mental 
powers, and should always have a good moral. Such stories 
can hardly fail to assist in developing and rightly directing 
the youthful imagination. 

Some object to all story-telling ; but this is an untenable 
position. What they object to, meets a want in the men- 
tal constitution. Unless children are allowed to hear and 
repeat good stories, they will hear and repeat bad ones. 

* Compend of English Literature, by C. D. Cleveland, p. 228. 



320 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Objecting to good stones, as a means of intellectual and 
moral culture, is at variance with the usage of the Bible, 
and with the laws of mind. 

4. Solitary musing. Imagination is usually most 
active when we are alone. Youth in the country have, in 
this respect, some advantage over those in the bustle of 
large cities. They are more alone with nature. Their 
attention is less engrossed with the mere passing fashion 
and parade of life. Rambling alone in the fields and groves, 
sitting in solitude under the big elm, or by the side of the 
stream, eyeing the ever changing phases of the earth and 
the heavens, without a human being present to interrupt 
the thoughts, can hardly fail to set the imagination at 
work. 

Not that it is well to be always alone with nature. This 
would ultimately tend to mental derangement. It would 
exalt the imaginative, at the expense of the social ; it would 
tend to misanthropy. In his true state, man yearns for 
some friend to participate of his wonder and joy. Yet soli- 
tary musings, frequently practised, are of the greatest 
advantage. They are almost as essential to the growth of 
eminent literary genius, as to the growth of rich spiritual 
piety. Without them, we as rarely find the one as the other. 

5. Frequently practising imaginative composition. 
The effort to embody our conceptions and give them a 
permament form, puts the mind in a state of prolonged 
tension, by which it rises to yet higher and fuller con- 
ceptions. When we think we have a full conception of 
an object or event, we often find, on attempting to describe 
it, that our conception of it is very imperfect. Writing 
helps the mind to fill up and perfect what it had begun 
to imagine. Milton could never have drawn ' the full pic- 
ture which he did, even in his own mind, without the aid 
of the pen. Mental conceptions soon vanish away, fre- 
quently leaving the mind much as they found it, unless 
reduced by the pen to a permanent form. They then 
become, as it were, the author's fixed capital, on which he 



QUESTIONS. 321 

can fall back, and of which he can take advantage, in 
making further acquisitions. It was thus that Bunyan 
went on, step after step, in that wonderful work, which has 
rendered his fame immortal. He did not dream, when he 
began to write, how much he was going to accomplish ; but 
as he wrote, the dream went on ; — sustained and ani- 
mated by what he had done, his imagination wrought more 
and more, until at last the production surprised both him- 
self and all his readers. 

Let the pupil be put to writing descriptions, allegories, 
stories, such as will task his invention to the utmost, and 
keep his imagination on steady and prolonged duty ; let 
him not be discouraged at failure, but be thereby only 
nerved to a firmer resolution to succeed ; and he will at 
length have the satisfaction to find, not only that he can 
call the spirits from their mighty deep, but that they will 
come, when he calls them ! The most arduous and dis- 
couraging effort, will result in the most triumphant and 
cheering success. 

Let the imagination be at an early age thus called up 
and directed ; let it be continuously nurtured and trained, 
with the same diligence which we bestow upon the reason- 
ing powers ; and it will be redeemed from the inglorious 
rank so often assigned it ; it will wholly cease to be what 
it now too often is, a means of debasing and vitiating the 
soul ; and it will become eminently subservient, not only to 
literary and professional eminence, but to the most impor- 
tant of all interests, — the interests of sound morality and 
pure religion. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXIX. 

Opening remarks ? Illustrations of reciprocity of action 1 How does 
perverted imagination produce inordinate love of wealth ? Love of power 
and fame ? What is said of youth in cities ? Vicious literature ? Ke- 
marks on imagination rightly employed ? How does it aid the Chris- 



322 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

tian ? "What is said about discipline of the imagination ? What is 
the great error 1 How should works of imagination be studied 1 Il- 
lustrate the two ways of studying and admiring works of imagina- 
tion. Remarks ? What is said of early attention to natural scenery 1 
Of reading imaginative books'? Of hearing and telling stories? Of 
solitary musing ? Of practising imaginative composition ? Final re- 
marks ? 



CHAPTER XXX 



DREAMING. 



Dreaming is a state of mind in which a part of its 
functions are suspended. Sleep composes the mind to rest. 
But this rest is not always perfect. The more restive of 
the mental faculties sometimes continue awake, after the 
others are composed. In absolutely profound sleep, that is, 
a state in which all the mental faculties are entirely at rest, 
there is of course no dreaming. 

The involuntary functions of the body, in sleep, continue 
their course much the same as when we are awake. The 
heart beats, the blood flows, the lungs play, the organs of 
digestion operate, all the involuntary functions go on, as at 
other times, although with somewhat relaxed energy. With 
these some of the mental faculties are more closely allied 
than with others, and hence they are less easily suspended 
by sleep. 

Some suppose our mental activity is never entirely sus- 
pended, and that only memory is wanting, on waking from 
the profoundest sleep, to assure us that we have still been 
dreaming. But this supposition seems to be gratuitous. 
Our minds, in the present state, need repose — the more 
perfect the better — nor does it appear that all our mental 
powers do not more or less participate in it. Indeed, the 
relative time in which we dream, is probably much less than 
is usually supposed. Our dreams, when in health, are 



MENTAL ACTIVITY MAY BE ENTIRELY SUSPENDED. 



324 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

mostly confined to a few moments after retiring, or, more 
frequently, to a few moments in the morning, thus preceding 
or following the hours of profound sleep. 



WHAT FACULTIES ARE MOST ACTIVE IN DREAMING. 

The faculties most active in dreaming are imagination 
and the passions ; the more grave faculties of reason and 
judgment being usually suspended. Hence the trains of 
thought in sleeping are irregular and confused, like the 
movements of a mutilated or disturbed machine. To vary 
the illustration, the mind in dreaming is like a ship at sea 
without a helm. Imagination spreads the sails, passion 
fills them, but reason is wanting at the helm to guide. 
Dreams are thus mostly made up of strange and confused 
imaginings.* 



THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION CONTINUE TO OPERATE IN 
DREAMS. 

So far as we can judge, the succession of our thoughts, 
in dreams, is regulated by the same laws of association as 
when we are awake. The objects which most interest us 
when awake, are those of which we are wont to dream. 
The miser by day, is the miser by night ; his dreams are of 
money gained and money lost. The dreams of the student, 
whose thoughts when awake are with books and men of 
learning, take their direction and character from these 
objects. The dreams of the melancholy man are tinged 
with his peculiar temperament ; whereas the man of cheer- 
ful disposition, if in good health, has ordinarily pleasant 
dreams. The shipmaster, after passing through perilous 
storms, and the general, after engaging in bloody battles, 
dreams of new perils and fresh encounters. 



* Reverie is a kind of dreaming state, in which the rational will is not 
entirely suspended, but yields itself up to the pleasing illusions of imagina- 
tion. It is thus an approach towards dreaming. 



DREAMING. 325 

" After having made a narrow escape from any alarming 
danger, we are apt to awake, in the course of our sleep, 
with sudden startings, imagining that we are drowning, or 
on the brink of a precipice. A severe misfortune, which 
has affected the mind deeply, influences our dreams in a 
similar way, and suggests to us a variety of adventures, 
analogous, in some measure, to that event from which our 
distress arises. Such, according to Virgil, were the dreams 
of the forsaken Dido." * 

" Agit ipse furentem, 
In somnis ferus .ZEneas ; semperque relinqui, 
Sola sibi ; semper longam incomitata videtur, 
Ire viam, et Tyrios deserta quserere terra." 



SUSPENSION OF WILL IN DREAMING. 

The most marked distinction between the succession of 
our thoughts in dreaming and when awake, is in the fact, 
that when awake our associations are under the control of the 
rational will ; but when dreaming, this power of will is sus- 
pended.! This is the explanation of the extravagance and 
incoherence of our thoughts and conceptions. The sus- 
pension of the will suspends, of course, the voluntary exer- 
cises of reason, judgment, recollection, &c, thus leaving 
the associations to run on unrestrained. We hence bound 
in thought from one place to another, from one scene to 
another, and often confound objects and events of very 
remote realms and periods. Our associating power is as 
active as ever, but the rational will is wanting to control it. 



* Abercrombie's Intellectual Philosophy, p. 205. 

t Somnambulism differs from ordinary sleep mainly in this, that the will 
retains its control over the bodily members. The man not only imagines 
himself walking, but actually walks. He labors under the same illusions 
as in ordinary dreaming, but the sleep has not so much composed the 
voluntary action of the body. 

28 



326 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



REASONING IN SLEEP. 

It is true, that we sometimes reason in sleep,* but this is 
accounted for on the ground of association. Processes of 
reasoning, to which we have become accustomed when 
awake, will often go on spontaneously when we are dream- 
ing. The man who never reasons when awake, never 
reasons when asleep. Mathematicians have sometimes 
solved problems in dreaming, which puzzled them when 
awake. The explanation is, that having accustomed their 
minds to such solutions, in the freedom from distraction 
secured bj sleep, their associations spontaneously suggest 
the solution in question. This is done without any effort of 
the reasoning powers ; it is a pure spontaneity.f 

I am acquainted with a preacher of the gospel, who was 
commencing to write a sermon, when, under the influence 
of headache, he dropped upon his bed and fell to dreaming 
about the subject of his study. He audibly named his text, 
and went through his sermon. His wife, being present, 
took it down in short hand. The sermon was subsequently 
written out and preached to his congregation, and was con- 
sidered one of his most eloquent and effective discourses. 
It was doubtless a train of thought with which he had 
previously made his mind familiar, and in the composed 
state secured by sleep, his association naturally called it up, 
with perhaps more clearness and concentration than could 

* "Dreaming persons sometimes reason better than they do when they 
are awake. When we would reflect deeply upon any subject, we escape 
from the noise of the world and external impressions, by covering our 
eyes with the hands ; and putting a great number of organs to rest, we 
endeavc* to concentrate all vital power in one or in several. In dream- 
ing and in somnambulism this naturally happens ; the functions of the 
active organs are then often more perfect and more energetic, the sensa- 
tions more lively, and the reflections deeper than in the state of watch- 
ing." Phrenology, by J. G. Sjmrzheim, M. D. Boston edition, 1834. 

t When in college, I was once laboring upon a very difficult problem in 
the higher mathematics, and not being able at the time to solve it, threw 
myself down in anxious study upon a couch, and fell into a dreamy 
state. In that state the solution occurred to me, and I awoke and readilv 
solved the problem. 



DREAMING. 327 

have been secured amidst the distractions of his wakeful 
hours, by the exercise of his rational will. 

" The following anecdote has been preserved in a family 
of rank in Scotland, the descendants of a distinguished law- 
yer of the last age. This eminent person had been con- 
sulted respecting a case of great importance and much 
difficulty ; and he had been studying it with intense anxiety 
and attention. After several days had been occupied in 
this manner, he was observed by his wife to rise from his 
bed in the night and go to a writing-desk which stood in the 
bed-room, He then sat down and wrote a long paper, 
which he put carefully by in the desk, and returned to bed. 
The following morning he told his wife that he had a most 
interesting dream; that he had dreamed of delivering a 
clear and luminous opinion respecting a case which had 
exceedingly perplexed him ; and that he would give any 
thing to recover the train of thought which had passed 
before him in his dream. She then directed him to the 
writing-desk, where he found the opinion clearly and fully 
written out, and which was afterwards found to be perfectly 
correct." * 



DREAMS APPEAR TO BE REALITIES. 

Owing to the suspension of our rational and perceptive 
faculties, our dreams seem to be realities. Reason is not in 
action to teach us otherwise ; neither does perception disa- 
buse the mind of its errors, by placing before it the realities 
of the external world. Hence dreaming places one in a 
very interesting predicament. The admonitions of the 
external world withdrawn, imagination turned loose, the 
mind is abandoned to the wildest suggestions of a headlong 
association ; and whatever is thus dreamed, has all the 
importance of reality. The most ridiculous forms, the most 
absurd anachronisms, the most contradictory conceits, are 
not too extravagant to pass with the wisest philosopher for 
sober verities. 

* Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 216. 



328 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Such strange work does dreaming make with the mind. 
It places the learned and the ignorant, the wise and the 
simple, the rich and the poor, upon the same level. They 
may feast together at the king's table, or expatiate together 
amid the glories of creation, or pine together in dungeons ; 
and to all are these dreams alike realities. 



IMPERFECT ESTIMATE OF TIME AND SPACE IN DREAMING. 

That our estimate of time and space in dreaming is so 
imperfect, is owing to the same cause to which we have 
referred in the above phenomena. Imagination, unguided 
by reason, being hurried from scene to scene, by the mere 
impulses of a blind association, confounds times, places, 
events, widely separated ; and often condenses into a few 
moments the events of years. Something like this is realized 
in scenic exhibitions, where imagination takes the reins, and 
the sober calculations of reason are set aside. It is not 
strange, therefore, that in such a state of mind as we have 
denned dreaming, this should be realized to perfection. 
The events of weeks and months are crowded into moments. 
We cross seas, explore distant continents, and return to our 
homes, all within the few moments of time that precede our 
rising from the morning pillow, after the profound slumbers 
of the night are ended. 

" Dr. Gregory mentions a gentleman, who, after sleeping 
in a damp place, was for a long time liable to a feeling of 
suffocation whenever he slept in a lying posture ; and this 
was always accompanied by a dream of a skeleton, which 
grasped him violently by the throat. He could sleep in a 
sitting posture without any uneasy feeling ; and after trying 
various expedients, he at last had a sentinel placed beside 
him, with orders to awake him whenever he sunk dow 7 n. 
On one occasion he was attacked by the skeleton, and a 
severe and long struggle ensued before he awoke. On find- 
ing fault with his attendant, for allowing him to lie so long 
in such a state of suffering, he was assured that he had not 
lain an instant, but had been awakened the moment he 
began to sink." 



DREAMING. 329 

" A friend of mine dreamed that he crossed the Atlantic 
and spent a fortnight in America. In embarking, on hi3 
return, he fell into the sea; and, having awoke with the 
fright, discovered that he had not been asleep above ten 
minutes." * 



DREAMS RECALL THINGS FORGOTTEN. 

Every person has observed, that he sometimes dreams of 
things long since gone from his mind. This also is accounted 
for by the same cause as above. We remember mostly by 
means of association. When the reasoning powers are at 
rest, our association flies, unguided, from one thing to ano- 
ther, influenced only by those feelings of interest, which 
may have been at any period awakened. Hence, a certain 
mental predisposition may at any time lead to a recognition 
of things long since forgotten, merely by the coincidence 
between the present state of the mind and the feelings 
which they inspired at the time of their occurrence. Thus 
the wrecked and storm-beaten mariner dreams of forgotten 
incidents of childhood, in connection with his mother, — his 
mother, to whom he was once accustomed to fly in trouble, — 
trouble, exciting feelings like the present. 

Our associations operate by contrast, as well as resem- 
blance, no less in dreaming than when awake ; hence, the 
man pining with hunger, in a desert, dreams of feasting 
again at a table, at which he had eaten long before, and 
which he had ceased to remember. Old people often dream 
of incidents in their childhood, of which they had not thought 
for many years. 

DREAMS FROM BODILY SENSATION. 

Most men have experienced the effects of certain bodily 
sensations upon dreams. An empty stomach occasions 
dreams of food, and of eating or attempting to eat ; while 

* Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 202. 

28* 



830 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

recent or undigested food in the stomach, causing a sensa- 
tion of oppression, leads to various unpleasant dreams, — as 
of being confined under a weight, struggling to escape from 
danger, or laboring ineffectually to accomplish some work.* 

In Abercrombie's Philosophy, are furnished the following 
illustrations of this law. " Dr. Gregory mentions that, 
having on one occasion gone to bed with a vessel of hot 
water at his feet, he dreamed of walking up the crater of 
Mount Etna, and of feeling the ground warm under him. 
He had at an early period of his life visited Mount Vesuvius, 
and actually felt a strong sensation of warmth in his feet 
when walking up the side of the crater ; but it was remark- 
able that the dream was not of Vesuvius, but of Etna, of 
which he had only read Brydon's description. This was 
probably from the latter impression being the most recent. 
On another occasion he dreamed of spending a winter at 
Hudson's Bay, and of suffering much distress from the 
intense frost. He found that he had thrown off the bed- 
clothes in his sleep ; and, a few days before, he had been 
reading a very particular account of the state of the colonies 
in that country during winter. Again, when suffering from 
toothache, he dreamed of undergoing the operation of tooth- 
drawing, with the additional circumstance that the operator 
drew a sound tooth, leaving the aching one in its place. 

" But the most striking anecdote in this interesting docu- 
ment is one in which similar dreams were produced in a 
gentleman and his wife, at the same time, and by the same 
cause. It happened at the period when there was an alarm 
of French invasion, and almost every man in Edinburgh was 
a soldier. All things had been arranged in expectation of 
the landing of an enemy ; the first notice of which was to 
be given by a gun from the castle, and this was to be fol- 
lowed by a chain of signals calculated to alarm the country 

* Incubus, or nightmare, is usually occasioned by indigestible food in the 
stomach, or by a sluggish circulation. It is characterized by a conscious- 
ness of an entire want of power over our bodily members, and is generally 
in connection with some unfavorable posture. I knew an aged gentle- 
man who was in the habit of occasionally indulging, just before retiring, 
an appetite for a certain preparation of cheese. This seldom failed to pro- 
duce incubus, in which he was found lying upon his back in the greatest 
distress, without the power of moving a finger. 



DREAMING. 331 

in all directions. Further, there had been recently in 
Edinburgh a splendid military spectacle, in which five thou- 
sand men had been drawn up in Prince's street, fronting 
the castle. The gentleman to whom the dream occurred, 
and who had been a most zealous volunteer, was in bed 
between two and three o'clock in the morning, when he 
dreamed of hearing a signal gun. He was immediately at 
the castle, witnessed the proceedings for displaying the 
signals, and saw and heard a great bustle over the town 
from troops and artillery assembling, especially in Prince's 
street. At this time he was roused by his wife, who awoke 
in a fright in consequence of a similar dream, connected 
with much noise and the landing of an enemy, and conclud- 
ing with the death of a particular friend of her husband's, 
who had served with him as a volunteer during the late war. 
The origin of this remarkable concurrence was ascertained, 
in the morning, to be the noise produced in the room above 
by the fall of a pair of tongs, which had been left in some 
very awkward position in support of a clothes-screen. 

"Dr.Reid relates of himself, that the dressing applied after 
a blister on his head having become ruffled so as to produce 
considerable uneasiness, he dreamed of falling into the hands 
of savages and being scalped by them." * 

Such cases are easily accounted for on the same principle 
as those above. The absence of reason and judgment leaves 
imagination to all the natural workings of its spontaneity, 
suggested by these bodily sensations. If only imagination 
is to decide, the dressing of a blister on the head might as 
naturally be referred to the operation of a scalping-knife, 
as to its true cause. Some incident in history, or some 
conversation, perhaps forgotten, revived in dreaming, would 
turn the associations in that direction. The case of coinci- 
dent dreaming of the man and his wife, is clearly this. 
Their sympathies, thoughts, associations, ivere all enlisted 
in the same direction, and their imaginations excited by the 
same external cause. There was precisely the same differ- 
ence in their dreams, which we should expect, — the husband 
going forth to the action ; the wife remaining at home, and 
being afflicted with the death of a friend. 

* Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 200. 



332 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



ARE DREAMS EVER PROPHETIC? 

That dreams have sometimes been made prophetic by 
God, when giving special revelations to man, is admitted by 
all who believe in the divine authority of the Bible. But 
the question respects the present time. I suppose that 
those dreams which are so fulfilled as to have a prophetic 
aspect, may be accounted for on natural principles. 

In the first place, there may be a casual coincidence 
between the dream and the event, without any divine inter- 
position. In the second place, the causes which led to the 
dream may conspire to produce the event. A man dreams 
of committing murder some time before he perpetrates the 
crime, because the elements of murder are already at work 
in his mind. A man dreams of meeting friends and of 
enjoying a delightful interview with them, long before the 
event is actually realized, because the event is in antici- 
pation. 

A man prostrate with rheumatism and under the influ- 
ence of severe pains, dreamed that his servant cut a quan- 
tity of hemlock boughs, steeped them in water, and applied 
them hot to the diseased parts, and thus effected a cure. 
The next day he employed his servant to perform this 
service, with entire faith in the result, and the result was a 
cure, as he had dreamed. He had doubtless heard of the 
efficacy of this article in cases of rheumatism ; — this led to 
the dream, and the dream suggested the steps towards its 
fulfilment, which faith contributed to the result. In all 
such cases, the thoughts and emotions which lead to the 
dream arise from the causes, and are themselves among the 
causes conspiring to their fulfilment. 

The following fact is mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, and 
his explanation of it seems sound and rational. " A clergy- 
man had come to this city (Edinburgh) from a short dis- 
tance in the country, and was stopping at an inn, when he 
dreamed of seeing a fire, and one of his children in the 
midst of it. He awoke with the impression, and instantly 
left town on his return home. When he arrived within sight 
of his house, he found it on fire, and got there in time to 



DREAMING. 333 

assist in saving one of his children, who, in the alarm and 
confusion, had been left in a situation of danger. Without 
calling in question the possibility of supernatural communi- 
cation in such cases, this striking occurrence, of which I 
believe there is little reason to doubt the truth, may per- 
haps be accounted for on simple and rational principles. Let 
us suppose, that the gentleman had a servant who had shown 
great carelessness in regard to fire, and had often given 
rise in his mind to a strong apprehension that she might set 
fire to his house. His anxiety might be increased by being 
from home, and the same circumstance might make the 
servant still more careless. Let us farther suppose that the 
gentleman, before going to bed, had, in addition to this anx- 
iety, suddenly recollected that there was on that day, in the 
neighborhood of his house, some fair or periodical merry- 
making, from which the servant was very likely to return 
home in a state of intoxication. It was most natural that 
these impressions should be embodied into a dream of his 
house being on fire, and that the same circumstances might 
lead to the dream being fulfilled." 



NO NEW SIMPLE IDEAS IN DREAMS. 

It seems to be a well settled fact, that however compli- 
cated and novel the combinations of ideas in dreams, there 
are yet no other elemental or simple ideas, than those ob- 
tained when awake by conversation and reflection. A man 
dreams of seeing a glass mountain : — he has never actually 
seen that object, when awake, but he has seen glass, and 
he has seen a mountain. His imagination in dreaming 
combines these, and thus creates a glass mountain. He 
dreams of strange animals, and of various frightful or splen- 
did scenes, such as his wakeful moments never even 
conceived : but on examination they are found to be made 
up of elemental ideas, obtained in the natural way when 
awake. 

As dreams thus depend on our perceptions, and our per- 
ceptions of visible things are the most vivid, our dreams are 
i mostly conversant with objects of sight. We seldom hear, 



334 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

taste, smell, in dreaming, unless something is at the time 
addressed to the senses. If a man in dreaming hears thun- 
der, or the report of a gun, or cries of distress, or sweet 
music, it is usually in connection with some noise within or 
near the house. If he dreams of tasting unsavory or deli- 
cious food, it is because of some disagreeable or agreeable 
taste actually in his mouth. If he dreams of sweet or 
unpleasant odors, there is usually something about him to 
occasion this sensation. 

One of the most pleasing circumstances connected with 
serenades, is, that as the music breaks upon our ears while 
we are asleep, we often enjoy its effects in producing a kind 
of brilliant dream, before entire wakefulness dispels the 
illusion. 



CONCLUDING REMARKS ON DREAMING. 

I conclude, that all the phenomena of dreaming are refer- 
able to the same general cause, — the suspension of some 
of the mental faculties. According as the faculties are 
more are less suspended, and their action modified by inci- 
dental circumstances, dreams will vary. There seems to be 
no more mystery connected with our dreaming than with our 
wakeful hours. We clearly trace, in each, the working of 
the same mind, according to the same laws of mental 
operation. 

But dreams are on the whole undesirable. They imply 
an imperfect state of rest. Pleasant dreams are less ex- 
hausting than unpleasant ones, but even such were better 
dispensed with. We do others no good by our dreams ; 
neither do we ordinarily benefit ourselves. It is the perfect 
rest of dreamless sleef), from which we awake most refreshed. 
Every person should therefore endeavor to avoid dreaming. 
The habit of dreaming may be usually corrected, by observ- 
ing the following rules. 

1. Retire to rest at suitable and uniform periods after 
eating ; so that there may be neither the sensation of hun- 
ger nor of oppression at the stomach. Very many dreams 
are occasioned by taking food too near the time of retiring. 



QUESTIONS. 335 

2. On going to bed, throw off all care, and compose the 
mind to sleep as soon as possible. To lie awake anxiously 
thinking, will almost certainly lead to dreaming. 

3. Promptly rise in the morning at the first wakening. 
Dreams occur mostly in the morning, after nature has ob- 
tained her needed rest. The sleep then obtained is forced 
and unsound, tending to exhaust the nervous system, and 
produce dreams on the following night. 

4. Avoid telling your dreams. The more you make of 
them, the more troublesome they will become. Neglect 
them, and they will neglect you. The man who tells his 
dreams on awaking in the morning, will scarcely fail to 
dream again on the following nights. 

By taking appropriate food and exercise, retiring and 
rising at suitable hours, maintaining a cheerful temper, and 
never paying any attention to what is dreamed, the habit of 
dreaming may be usually corrected, and that perfect sound- 
ness of sleep secured, which is so conducive to health and 
long life. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXX. 

What is dreaming 1 What functions continue their course ? Re- 
marks 1 What do some suppose, as to the suspension of our mental 
activity 1 What reply to this % What faculties most active in dreaming ? 
Explain. Do the laws of association continue to operate in dreams'? 
How shown 1 What is the most marked distinction between the succes- 
sion of our thoughts in dreaming and when awake ? Of what is this 
the explanation ? Do we reason in sleep ? How accounted for ? Illus- 
trate. What is said of a preacher % Anecdote from a family in Scotland 1 
Do dreams seem to be realities ? Why 1 What strange work does 
dreaming make with the mind 1 What is said of our estimate of time and 
space in dreaming 1 Illustrations ? Dr. Gregory's fact 1 Do dreams re- 
call things forgotten ? How explained % What is said of contrast ? 
Illustrate. Of dreams from bodily sensations 1 Instances cited from Dr. 
Gregory "? Reid's personal fact ? Explain these cases. Are dreams pro- 



336 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



phetic "? What is said of apparently prophetic dreams, in the first place 1 
In the second place ? Illustrations ? Case of the man prostrate with 
rheumatism ? Fact and explanation by Abercrombie ? Have we any 
new simple ideas in dreams 1 Explain. With what objects are our dreams 
most conversant ? Illustrate. What is one of the most pleasing circum- 
stances connected with serenades? Concluding remarks ? What is said 
of the undesirableness of dreams ? First rule for avoiding them 1 Second ? 
Third ? Fourth ? State the whole together, with concluding remark. 



, 



PART IV. 



CHAPTER XXXI 



INSANITY. 



Having examined the intellectual powers in those de- 
velopments which may be considered normal or regular r 
let us devote some time to those phenomena, which may be 
considered abnormal or irregular. They are mental acts 
more or less extraordinary, being the result of disease, or of 
peculiar occasional causes from without. They may be con- 
sidered under the following heads, — Insanity, Mesmerism,- 
Apparent Death, and Trance. We will begin with the first. 

Insanity always implies a diseased state of mind. 
Diseases of the mind, as well as of the body, belong most 
properly to medical treatises, and for obvious reasons it is in- 
expedient to portray, at length, causes of mental derange- 
ment, for the indiscriminate perusal of the young. I shall 
therefore be brief upon this subject. 



wherein dreaming and insanity are alike. 

Dreaming and insanity are analogous, in these two 
respects ; — in both, the mind's imaginings are mistaken for 
realities ; and in both, the thoughts succeed each other as sug- 
gested by associations, uncontrolled by the rational will. Thus, 
Dr. Abercrombie, whose authority is very good on this sub- 
29 



338 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

ject, remarks, — " It appears then, that there is a remarka- 
ble analogy between the mental phenomena in insanity and 
in dreaming ; and that the leading peculiarities of both these 
conditions are referable to two heads : — 

1. The impressions which arise in the mind are believed 
to be real and present existences, and this belief is not cor- 
rected by comparing the conception with the actual state of 
things in the external world. 

2. The chains of ideas or images which arise, follow one 
another according to certain associations over which the 
individual has no control ; he cannot, as in a healthy state, 
vary the series or stop it at his will." * 



WHEREIN DREAMING AND INSANITY DIFFER. 

:r Dreaming and insanity are essentially different, in the 
following respects : — 

1. In dreaming, a part of the mental faculties are in a 
state of rest ; in insanity, they are in a state of diseased 
action. Hence the former is transient ; the latter perma- 
nent. As the former results from only a dormant state of 
some of the faculties of a sound mind, we only need to arouse 
them to service, to restore the balance of mental action ; 
but, as the latter implies a diseased state, the rousing up of 
the faculties no more restores sane action to the mind, than 
the waking up of a sick man restores health to his body. 

2. In dreaming, we are ordinarily insensible to the objects 
around us. The eyes are usually closed, and all the other 
organs of perception are composed to rest. But in cases of 
insanity, there is ordinarily a high degree of sensibility in 
relation to surrounding objects and events. Indeed the per- 
ceptions of insane persons are often remarkably keen. All 
who have been conversant with them, must have noticed how 
quick a word, a look, an action, even a cautious whisper, 
is by them perceived and interpreted. 

Some have supposed that in the higher states of disease, 
the subject becomes insensible, as in dreaming, to external 

* Intellectual Philosophy, p. 226. 



INSANITY. 339 

objects. Thus, Dr. Abercrombie says, " In the higher 
states, or what we call perfect mania, we see them exem- 
plified in the same complete manner as in dreaming. The 
maniac fancies himself a king possessed of boundless power, 
and surrounded by every form of earthly splendor ; and with 
all his bodily senses in their perfect exercise, this hallucina- 
tion is in no degree corrected by the sight of his bed of 
straw and all the horrors of his cell." * But there is still 
this difference : — In dreaming, the subject takes no notice 
of surrounding objects ; in the mania supposed, the subject 
notices the bed of straw and the cell, but his disordered im- 
agination transforms them to a throne and a palace. The 
idea that maniacs are insensible to surrounding objects, has 
often led to a neglect of their external condition. The 
" bed of straw and all the horrors of his cell " is what no ma- 
niac should be subjected to : an imagination transforming 
them into circumstances of power and splendor, is the rare 
portion of the few triumphantly intent on making the best 
of their wretchedness. 



MONOMANIA. 

One of the most common forms of insanity, is that in 
which the mind is diseased in reference to one particular 
subject, and sound in reference to all others. This is what 
the name imports, monomania. It is no uncommon thing 
for men to become highly nervous, or excitable, on one par- 
ticular subject. It is perhaps one on which their feelings 
have been much tried, or in which they have a special inter- 
est. Disappointed lovers ; misers, who have met with severe 
losses ; ardent philanthropists, who have been thwarted in 
their prospects of reform ; men severely tried in their relig- 
ious experience ; persons under deep affliction ; — are all 
very liable to this disordered mental action. Where the ex- 
citement becomes intense and absorbing, so that the one 
impression controls the mind, despite of reason, it is mono- 
mania. The proper balance of mind, in reference to a 

* Intellectual Philosophy, p. 226. 



340 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

particular subject, is lost. The line between that eccentri- 
city, or oncideaism, as some have termed it, which merely 
magnifies a subject above its relative importance, and real 
monomania, is not distinctly drawn ; the one gradually 
merges into the other. 

In cases of decided monomania, the victim of the disease 
usually continues to be morbidly excited upon one and the 
same subject, and sane upon all others, until the restoration 
of health, or the close of life. But sometimes the hallucina- 
tion changes from one subject to another. A man mentioned 
by some medical authority, was haunted several years with 
the idea of being poisoned ; — his hallucination became sud- 
denly changed ; he imagined himself lord of the world, and 
enjoyed the pleasing illusion until death. This seems to be 
accounted for on the principle of re-action. When the mind 
had been long pressed to an extreme point in one direction, 
it sometimes vibrates and passes to an opposite extreme. 



ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF INSANITY. 

Insanity usually first discovers itself by some slight devia- 
tions from the ordinary mental action. The subject is 
unusually depressed, light-minded, absent, or irritable. He 
begins, perhaps, to labor under some illusion. He imagines 
that some person has attempted to poison him, or to injure 
his character or property. He becomes exceedingly jealous 
and suspicious, and sometimes revengeful. At other times, 
his imagination presents a pleasing picture ; — he fancies 
himself about to be promoted to distinction and wealth, and 
embarks in visionary projects. His friends notice these 
things with surprise, and begin to blame and rebuke him, 
not as yet suspecting the true cause. The disorder goes 
gradually on, until at length it developes itself in actions so 
decidedly irrational as to unmask the disease. 

The fact that insanity usually advances slowly, is very 
important, as serving to assist in detecting both the inci- 
pient stages of the disease, and also pretensions to it. When 
a person exhibits symptoms of insanity, immediately after 
being detected in some crime, without having previously 



INSANITY. 841 

exhibited the same, or something approaching them, his case 
is very suspicious. 

There may be sudden derangements of mind from a fall, 
or fright, the death of a friend, or a fever ; — these are not 
usually chronic, are clearly traced to their cause, and there- 
fore form no serious exception to the above remark. 



PECULIAR CHARACTER OF INSANITY. 

" The peculiar character of insanity," says Dr. Abercrom- 
bie, " in all its modifications, appears to be, that a certain 
impression has fixed itself upon the mind in such a manner 
as to exclude others ; or to exclude them from that influence 
which they ought to have on the mind, in its estimate of the 
relations of things. This impression may be entirely vision- 
ary and unfounded ; or it may be in itself true, but distorted 
in the application which the unsound mind makes of it, and 
the consequences which are deduced from it. Thus a man 
of wealth fancies himself a beggar, and in danger of dying 
of hunger. Another takes up the same impression who has, 
in fact, sustained some considerable loss. In the one, the 
impression is entirely visionary, like that which might occur 
in a dream ; in the other, it is a real and true impression, 
carried to consequences which it does not warrant." * 

Insanity is also perhaps always characterized by an un- 
usual stupor, or a greatly increased activity of mind, or 
more commonly by the alternations of both. The former is 
an approach to idiocy ; the latter, to something superhuman. 
The latter is by far the more common. Imagination be- 
comes exceedingly fertile ; memory quick and exact ; con- 
ception rapid ; and comparisons are made and inferences 
drawn, right or wrong, with wonderful readiness. Persons 
of ordinary parts have, in such paroxysms of insanity, sur- 
prised their friends by the exhibition of genius. 

But such mental fervors are at the expense of permanent 
intellectual vigor, and even of life. Persons liable to periodi- 
cal attacks of insanity, have sometimes even anticipated them 

* Intellectual Philosophy, p. 250. 
29* 



342 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

with impatience, on account of the pleasure afforded by 
the preternatural excitement. But in most cases the pain 
immeasurably surpasses the pleasure ; and in all cases there 
is a rapid wearing down of the mental energies, and hasten- 
ing towards the destruction of all that renders life desirable. 
In every view, we must consider insanity amongst the great- 
est of all earthly calamities ; and instead of filling our 
pages with its painful and startling pictures, I may perhaps 
more profitably conclude the chapter with some account of its 
causes and preventives. I shall notice them together. 

Among the causes of insanity, the following are most pro- 
minent. 

1. Hereditary tendency. A predisposition to this dis- 
ease seems to follow some families through several generations. 
This has been especially noticed among families, who had 
long been in the habit of marrying among themselves. 
Where the children of brothers or sisters, or others nearly 
related by blood, intermarry, evil tendencies on either side, 
instead of being counteracted, as in cross-marrying, are per- 
petuated and increased. Consumption, sterility, idiocy, 
and insanity, are all more or less inclined to follow these 
unnatural affiances. The prevention therefore, in this case, 
is obvious. But where persons have themselves actually 
inherited the predisposition in question, it may be much 
counteracted and resisted, by observing the directions that 
will be given subsequently. 

2. All kinds of vice. All kinds of vice tend to 
derange the mental functions ; but those most directly 
tending to insanity are intemperance and licentiousness. 
The statistics of insane hospitals prove, that a very large 
proportion of their inmates have become such, by one or 
both of these vices. By irritating and exhausting the nervous 
system, producing chronic inflammation of the brain, prostrat- 
ing the digestive functions, and impairing the mental ener- 
gies, they lead to the utter dethronement of reason. 

Here again the prevention is at hand ; — let every youth, 
as he would be safe from this terrible disease, be ever strictly 
temperate and virtuous. Many a youth has destroyed him- 



INSANITY. 343 

self by secret vices, long before his parents or guardians 
suspected them. It should be remembered that the effect 
in question does not follow the vice immediately, but often 
after succeeding months and years. 

3. Novel reading. Many imaginative youth, particu- 
larly of the more delicate sex, have brought upon themselves 
a nervousness resulting in insanity, by an indiscreet and 
absorbing devotion to fictitious tales. By exalting the imag- 
ination to a region of exciting fiction, in which the reali- 
ties of life are neglected, the proper mental balance is finally 
lost. Fancies, dreams, illusions — all the maniac forms of 
hallucination — naturally follow. One of the most interest- 
ing and accomplished young ladies of a certain place not 
distant, became excessively devoted to novels. Without the 
knowledge of her parents, she was in the habit of sitting up 
in her chamber and poring over them, long after the family 
had retired. On one morning she discovered some flighti- 
ness of mind at breakfast. The next morning it was repeat- 
ed, with some other eccentricities. The father, who was a 
physician, mistrusted something wrong ; and on inquiry, 
learned the course his daughter had been pursuing. But it 
was too late. She soon became a confirmed maniac, and 
has been for several years in an insane hospital, without 
the least prospect of being ever removed from it but by 
death. Several somewhat similar instances have fallen 
under the limited observation of the writer. 

Here, again, the prevention is plain. The reading of 
fiction should be restricted within narrow and cautious 
limits, and where there is the least tendency to insanity, 
the mind should be kept as familiar as possible with the 
sober but cheerful realities and duties of life, and as much 
removed as possible from ivhatever unduly excites the 
imagination. 

4. Overworking- the brain. Students, professional 
men, inventors, merchants in times of pressure, and all men 
intensely and anxiously employing their minds upon any sub- 
ject of study, are liable to exhaust the intellectual nerve 
and bring on permanent mental derangement. The first 



344 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

scholar in the writer's class in college, became insane from 
too severe application to study. He has since died in a 
lunatic asylum. Cases of insanity among gentlemen of the 
several professions, particularly those of law and divinity, 
resulting from overtaxing the brain, are familiar to all. 

There is also a class of persons highly ingenious, whose 
minds are intensely occupied with inventions of machinery, 
who are particularly liable to insanity. The perpetual and 
absorbing study of profound and intricate problems, gradu- 
ally exhausts the brain. It has also appeared from the 
statistics of our asylums that, after seasons of great financial 
pressure and disaster, not a few of their unhappy inmates 
have been furnished from gentlemen in mercantile business. 

In all these cases, to know the cause is to know the 
prevention. All men, whose pursuits lead to great mental 
effort, should advance cautiously. There is scarcely a limit 
to the power of mental action, provided it be approached 
gradually. The mind gathers firmness and strength, as it 
advances ; but unduly pressed, especially in its earlier 
stages, it may lose its balance forever. 

5. Religious melancholy. When the mind is for a 
long time in a state of deep anxiety and gloom in respect to 
religion, it is very liable to become permanently deranged. 
Some decided cases of this description have fallen under 
my observation. The wife of a distinguished lawyer, 
devoted to gaiety and fashion, became depressed and 
gloomy in consequence of many of her gay friends becoming 
religious. At length she quite withdrew from society, and 
for several weeks remained at home in a state of deep 
despondency. One night she took the keys of the several 
closets and other apartments of her house, and after putting 
things in order locked them up and delivered the keys to 
the servant, with the declared intention of going on a jour- 
ney the next day. The next morning she awoke with 
decided symptoms of insanity. She was under a course of 
treatment for that disease about two years, at her own 
dwelling. One morning, on awaking, she arose and dressed 
herself, went to the room of her servant, and demanded the 
keys. She imagined that she had just returned from her 



INSANITY. 345 

intended journey. From that moment, her symptoms of 
insanity disappeared ; she became perfectly well, and lived 
many years a devoted Christian. 

Another lady, after a long period of deep religions gloom, 
fell a victim to the illusion that she had committed the un- 
pardonable sin. On this point, her mind became perfectly 
insane. No reasoning could convince her, no light from 
Heaven could irradiate the dark chamber of her mind. 
She kneio that she was to be lost, and it was in vain to do 
any thing for her. She described the horrors of perdition 
with a boldness and power of imagery seldom equalled, and 
concluded by saying, " This is all to be my portion." 

A course of judicious medical treatment, with subsequent 
journeying and change of scenery and employment, dispelled 
the illusion and restored the mental balance. She is still 
living, a very devoted and useful Christian. 

There is now, in one of our asylums, a man suffering 
under the idea that his soul is in perdition. Some years 
since he resisted very strong religious convictions, and at 
length became gloomy, and at last insane. Converse with 
him on most other subjects, and he appears much as men do 
in sound mind ; but the moment any allusion is made to his 
spiritual condition, he is in the greatest conceivable distress, 
declaring that the miseries of perdition have taken hold of 
him. 

The prevention of such unhappy cases is to be found, not 
in putting religion aside ; for the religious wants of man 
will rebel against this, and take occasion from it to induce 
the deeper gloom ; but to bring Christianity to bear fully 
upon the mind, with all her healing and gracious power. 
If the mind is actually diseased, other remedies should not 
be wanting. But the testimony of our most distinguished 
physicians, conversant with this subject, is decisive to the 
point, that such are the moral wants of the soul, that Chris- 
tianity, contemplated in its true character and bearings, is 
among the most important of all means, both for the preven- 
tion and cure of insanity. Hence the reading of the 
Scriptures and a system of chaplaincy, are becoming a part 
of the curative system of our lunatic asylums. 

Other causes of insanity, such as gambling, frequent 



346 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

theatre-going, dissipating amusements continued late at 
night, jealousies and disappointments in matters of love, are 
familiar to most, and their prevention is obvious. In gene- 
ral, the saneness of our intellect is mostly at our own 
disposal; and a wise regard to the preventives of insanity, 
might save thousands from that dreadful calamity into which 
they are rushing. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXI. 

What is insanity? Wherein are dreaming and insanity alike? Re- 
marks of Dr. Abercrombie 1 First particular in which dreaming and 
insanity differ? Second? What have some supposed respecting the 
higher states of the disease ? What says Abercrombie ? Answer to him 1 
What is monomania ? Examples 1 What is said of cases of decided 
monomania? How does insanity usually first discover itself ? Explain. 
What importance to the fact that insanity advances slowly ? Any excep- 
tions to the fact 1 What is the peculiar character of insanity 1 What is 
said of insanity being characterized by stupor or increased activity of 
mind ? Remarks 1 First mentioned cause of insanity ? In what families 
is it especially noticed ? Remarks ? Second cause 1 Remarks 1 Pre- 
vention ? Third cause ? How explained ? Instance cited ? Prevention % 
Fourth cause 1 Illustrations ? What is said of highly ingenious minds ? 
What has appeared from the statistics of asylums ? Fifth cause ? Exam- 
ple ? Instance of another lady ? Another instance 1 The prevention ? 
To what point is the best medical testimony ? Concluding remark ? 



CHAPTER XXXII. 



MESMERISM. 



In a recent distinguished work on Human Physiology, 
the learned author says, " It appears that the time has now 
come, when a tolerably definite opinion may be formed 
regarding a large number of the phenomena commonly 
ncluded in the term Mesmerism. Notwithstanding the 
exposures of various pretenders, which have taken place 
from time to time, there remains a considerable mass of 
phenomena, which cannot be so readily disposed of, and 
which appears to have as just a title to the attention of 
scientific physiologists, as that which is possessed by any 
other class of well-ascertained facts." * 



OPINIONS OF SCIENTIFIC MEN. 

The most that is usually admitted on this subject, by the 
more cautious men of science, is, that a state of coma, more 
or less profound and peculiar, may be produced by titillation. 
That the gentle passage of one's hands over another's head, 
or any agreeable and soothing action upon the person, tends 
to compose the nervous system and induce sleep, is within 
the experience of all. And it is observed that some are 

* Principles of Human Physiology, by William B. Carpenter, M. D., 
F. R. S., 3?. G. S., Examiner in Physiology in the University of London, 
&c. &c., p. 731. This is the most recent and comprehensive work on Phy- 
siology, comprising the best authorities and most important discoveries 
down to the present time. 



348 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

much more subject to such influences than others. While 
persons of iron nerve can be scarcely affected in this way, 
persons of feeble nerve can sometimes be put to sleep with 
ease. But even among persons the most sensitive, there is 
a wide difference ; some being morbidly wakeful, others 
morbidly disposed to coma. This influence may be sometimes 
exerted without contact. By a gentle movement of the 
fingers, at a little distance from the head and arms of the 
patient, a kind of magnetic influence is made to pass from 
the operator upon him. 



WHAT MESMERISM CLAIMS TO DO. 

But modern mesmerism claims to do more. How much 
was actually done or claimed by him whose name it bears, 
is a matter of some question, not important here. As advo- 
cated at the present time, it claims that mesmerizers acquire 
such power over some mesmerized persons, that the minds 
of the latter become, in their operations, identified with 
those of the former, — so as to think, imagine, desire, love, 
hate, suffer, enjoy, choose, only as the former will: and 
more than this, that the mesmerized subject may be put into 
what is called a clairvoyant state, — a state in which he not 
only thinks and feels as he is willed to do, but actually sees 
and reveals distant objects and events, at the will of the 
mesmerizer. These are certainly very high claims ; — 
whether the foundation is broad enough to sustain them, 
must be left to the reader's judgment. 



CONDITIONS OF PRODUCING THE MESMERIZED STATE. 

It is claimed that one person may be put into the mes- 
merized state by another, under the following conditions : 

1. The operator must sustain to the patient the relation 
of a positive to a negative ; — the 'potentiality pertaining to 
the former, the susceptibility to the latter. 

2. The operator must concentrate his thoughts and feel- 



MESMERISM. ■ 349 

ings, so as firmly to will the result ; with the full expecta- 
tion of securing it. 

3. There must be an entire agreement between the par- 
ties ; the will of the patient being entirely resigned to 
that of the operator. 

4. The result may be facilitated, by the gentle passage 
of the operator's hand over the head of the patient ; but 
this is not essential, as the act is considered mostly mental. 

5. No disturbing cause must be allowed to interrupt the 
process, but the free and full action of mind over mind must 
be allowed to take effect. 

6. The posture is immaterial, provided the patient is 
quite at his ease. 

7. The first operation usually requires more time and 
effort to produce the result, than is needed on subsequent 
occasions : — the connection once established, facilitates 
future results. 



EFFECTS PRODUCED ON THE PATIENT. 

The substance of most that I shall say, under this head, 
is taken from the Physiology of Dr. Carpenter ; to whom, 
of course, belongs whatever of responsibility or of credit it 
may demand. The principal phenomena, which he regards 
as " having been veritably presented in a sufficient number 
of instances, to entitle them to be considered as genuine and 
regular manifestations of the peculiar bodily and mental 
condition under discussion," are the following : 

1. " A state of complete coma, or perfect insensibility, 
analogous in its mode of access and departure to that which 
is known as the Hysteric coma ; and, like it, usually distin- 
guishable from the coma of cerebral oppression, by a con- 
stant twinkling movement of the eyelids. In this condition 
severe surgical operations may be performed, without any 
consciousness on the part of the patient ; and it is not 
unfrequently found, that the state of torpor extends from 
the cerebrum and sensoria ganglia to the medulla oblongata, 
30 



350 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

so that the respiratory movements become seriously inter- 
fered with, and a state of partial asphyxia supervenes." * 
These phenomena have been frequently witnessed among 
us. I have often seen surgical operations, of the most 
painful kind, performed upon patients in this state, without 
producing in them the least sensation. 

2. A state of somnambulism. In this state the patient 
exhibits all the varieties of phenomena pertaining to natural 
sleep-walking ; f from a very limited activity of the mental 
powers, to a state of complete double consciousness , in which 
he manifests all the ordinary powers of his mind ; but, after 
the spell is broken, remembers nothing of what has passed. 
In this state, the thoughts of the patient are usually much 
under the direction of the operator, being guided by the 
principle of suggestion, without any correction from the 
teachings of common experience. The emotional powers 
are more excited than the purely intellectual, and the atten- 
tion may be so completely fixed upon one object, as to pro- 
duce an entire insensibility to all impressions not connected 
with it. There is in this respect a correspondence with the 
phenomena of ordinary somnambulism ; but there is this 
difference, that the mind is more subject to external influ- 
ences, and may therefore be more readily played upon by 
the operator. Insensibility to pain may be produced in this 
state nearly as complete as that which occurs in the coma- 



* Physiology, p. 732. 

t " The state of [natural] somnambulism appears to be nearer to that 
of wakeful activity of the whole mind than is that of dreaming. In the 
latter condition, the individual is unconscious of external objects ; for, if 
they produce an effect upon him, it is in modifying the current of ideas, 
frequently in some extraordinary manner ; and he does not form any true 
perception or idea of their nature. But in somnambulism his senses are 
partly awake, so that impressions made upon them may be properly 
represented to the mind, and excite there the ideas with which they are 
connected ; moreover, the cerebellum is also awake, so that the move- 
ments which the individual performs are perfectly adapted to their object. 
Indeed, it has frequently occurred, that the power of balancing the body 
has been so remarkably exercised in this condition, that sleep-walkers 
have traversed narrow and difficult paths, on which they could not have 
passed in open day, when conscious of their danger." — Carpenter's Physi- 
ology, p. 373. 



MESMERISM. 351 

tose state mentioned above, by causing the mind to be 
exclusively directed towards another object.* 

3. An extraordinary exaltation of one or more of the 
senses. In this state, the patient becomes susceptible of 
influences, which, in his natural condition, would be unno- 
ticed. In speaking of the senses, I had occasion to mention 
instances in which some of them, even in their natural state, 
manifested very Uncommon powers. It is not incredible, 
therefore, that under the influence of disease, or some other 
powerfully exciting cause, they should sometimes give 
symptoms of extraordinary exaltation. Dr. Carpenter gives 
an account of a lad in a state of natural somnambulism, who 
had his sense of smell so remarkably heightened, as to be 
able to assign, without the least hesitation, a glove placed 

# The " double consciouness" referred to above, has its parallel in natural 
phenomena induced by disease or over-sleeping. Dr. Spurzheim says, 
" It is not true that consciousness is always single, either in refer- 
ence to external senses, or to the internal faculties. There are diseased 
persons who see all objects double. Numbers of madmen hear angels 
singing, or devils roaring, only on one side. One of Gaul's friends, a 
physician, often complained that he could not think in the left side of his 
head ; the right side was one inch higher than his left. — There are other 
sorts of remarkable cases, which prove that consciousness is not always 
single. Mr. Combe (System of Phrenology, p. 108,) quotes from the 
Medical Repository the case of a Miss R. in the United States, who natu- 
rally possessed a very good constitution, and arrived at adult age without 
having it impaired by disease. Without any forewarning she fell into a 
profound sleep, which continued several hours beyond the ordinary time. 
On waking, she was discovered to have lost every trait of acquired knowl- 
edge. Her memory was tabula rasa. All vestiges both of words and 
things were obliterated and gone. It was found necessary for her to learn 
every thing again. She even acquired, by new efforts, the art of spelling, 
reading, writing, and calculating, and gradually became acquainted with 
the persons and objects around, like a being for the first time brought into 
the world. In these exercises she made considerable proficiency. But 
after a few months another fit of somnolency invaded her. On rousing 
from it, she found herself restored to the state she was before the first 
paroxysm, but was wholly ignorant of every event and occurrence that 
had befallen her afterwards. The former condition of her existence she 
called the old state, and the latter the new state, and she was as uncon- 
scious of her double character, as two distinct persons are of their respec- 
tive natures. During four years and upwards, she had undergone peri- 
odical transitions from one of these states to another. The alterations 
were always consequent upon a long and sound sleep. In her old state 
she possessed all her original knowledge. In her new state, only what 
she acquired since. If a gentleman or lady be introduced to her in the 
old state, or vice versa, and so of all other matters, to know them satisfac- 
torily, she must learn them in both states. In the old state, she possesses 



352 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

in his hand to its right owner, in the midst of about thirty 
persons, the boy himself being blindfolded.* 

But the sense, whose powers are more particularly ex- 
alted, and to which most importance is attached, is that of 
sight. In states of natural somnambulism, this sense has 
been frequently so heightened as to discern objects in the 
dark, and through various media which ordinarily quite 
obstruct vision. The same is claimed for it in those states 
of artificial somnambulism, which are produced by mesmeric 
influences. It is not incredible that the mind should be 
made so to concentrate its energies in a certain organ, and 
that the action of this organ should be so increased, as to re- 
quire only a tenth or a hundredth part of the usual cause from 
without, to produce sensation and perception. That amount 
of light, which ordinarily seems to the eye almost total dark- 
ness, may suffice, under this extraordinary exaltation of the 
sense, to enable the patient to see clearly. But this is by 
no means tantamount to seeing without light. Somnambu- 
lists have seen to read through bandages and with closed 
eyelids,f but when a plate of solid metal was interposed, 

fine powers of penmanship, while in the new. writes a poor, awkward 
hand, not having had time or means to become expert. In January, 1816, 
both the lady and her family were able to conduct affairs without embar- 
rassment. By quickly knowing whether she is in the old state or the 
new, they regulate their intercourse, and govern themselves accordingly. 
The Rev. Timothy Alden, of Meadville, has "drawn up a history of this 
curious case." — Spurzheim's Phrenology, vol. 1, pp. 76, 77. After citing 
other cases, the author adds, " The same phenomena presents themselves, 
when in a state of somnambulism produced by animal magnetism. It 
has been repeatedly observed that some magnetized persons acquire a 
new consciousness and memory during their magnetic sleep. When this 
state has subsided, all that passed in it is obliterated, and the recollection 
of the ordinary state is restored. If the magnetic sleep is recalled again, 
the memory and the circumstances which occurred in that state is 
restored, so that the individuals may be said to live in a state of double 
consciousness. " -— Ibid. 

* Physiology, p. 399. 

t Last evening I witnessed an instance of this kind. A woman, with 
her eyes shut, and eyelids held firmly together by another person, saw 
distinctly, and named every object which was held before her. There was 
no possible chance for any trick or illusion. But Avhen a solid, opaque 
substance was interposed betwen her eyes and the object presented, 
she could not see it. Her eyelids may have been uncommonly thin 
and translucent, and her sense of eight in a state of extraordinary exal- 
tation. 



MESMERISM. 353 

they could not discern a letter. Whatever is absolutely 
impervious to light, is fatal to sensuous vision. 

4. The muscular system may be excited to action in 
unusual modes and ivith unusual energy. 

" Notwithstanding the fallacy of many of the cases of 
cataleptic rigidity, which have been publicly exhibited," says 
Dr. Carpenter, " the author is satisfied, from investigations 
privately made, of the possibility of artificially inducing this 
condition. A slight irritation of the muscles themselves, or 
of the skin which covers them — as by drawing the points 
of the fingers over them, or even wafting currents of air 
over the surface — is sufficient to excite the tonic muscular 
contraction, which may continue in sufficient force to sus- 
pend a considerable weight, for a longer period than it could 
be kept up by any conceivable effort of voluntary power. 

" Further, by directing the attention exclusively to any set 
of muscles, and by impressing the mind of the somnambulist 
with the facility of the action to be performed, a very extra- 
ordinary degree of muscular power may be called forth, 
even in very feeble individuals. Thus the author has seen 
a man of extremely low muscular development and small 
stature, not only lift up a twenty-eight pound weight upon 
his little finger, but even swing it round his head with the 
greatest apparent facility ; having been previously assured 
that it was as light as a feather. Upon taking up the same 
weight upon their own little fingers, the author and his 
friends were very glad to lay it down after raising it a foot 
from the ground ; and the subject of this experiment (a re- 
spectable middle-aged man, who was not an " exhibitor," 
and upon whom no suspicion of any kind rested) declined, 
when in his waking state, even attempting to lift the weight, 
on the ground that it would strain him too much." * 

* There seems to be a resemblance between the states produced by 
Mesmerism and cases of Electro-Biology, although in some respects they dif- 
fer. The abnormal mental states are quite as extraordinary in the latter 
case as in the former, while those of the body are perhaps still stranger. 
I have recently witnessed some striking illustrations of electro-biology in 
a private circle of some dozen persons. A gentleman experimented upon 
a young man about twenty-two years old. The character of the parties 
forbids all suspicion of any trick or deception ; moreover, the young 
man operated upon had never read nor attended any lectures upon this 
subject, and knew nothing about it. 

30* 



354 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

" These are the principal phenomena of artificial somnam- 
bulism," continues the learned doctor, " in regard to which 
the author finds his mind made up. He does not see why 
any discredit should be attached to them, since they corres- 
pond, in all essential particulars, with those of states which 
naturally or spontaneously occur in many individuals, and 
which he has had opportunity of personally observing in 
cases in which the well known characters of the parties 
placed them above suspicion. When the facility with which 
the mind of the somnambulist is played on by suggestions, 
conveyed either in language or by other sensations which 

Having practised the appropriate movements upen the patient, the 
operator closed the patient's eyes, and then told him to open them if he 
could. He could not open them. After straining in vain for some time, 
he was told that he might open them ; he then instantly opened them, 
with the usual ease. In like manner, without touching the patient's per- 
son, the operator stopped him while walking, so that he stood like a post, 
unable to move in any direction ; he told him to lay his hands on his 
head, and when laid there, he could not remove them ; he told him to 
extend them in front and bring them together, and when so brought to- 
gether, he could not separate them ; he told him to sit down, and Avhen 
seated he could not rise ; — in a word, in whatever position the operator 
placed him, in that position he was compelled to remain, with muscles as 
firm as iron, until he was permitted to move. 

The operator told him that he had come into company strangely 
dressed ; that he had on a green coat, yellow vest, white pantaloons, 
and red boots ; finally, that he was a negro ; — he believed it all, until the 
illusion was removed by the operator. He placed a staff in his hands, 
compelled him to hold it, and while he was holding it made him think it 
was a snake bending up its head to bite him. The poor young man 
writhed in agony, and tried to throw the monster from his hands, but could 
not, until told that he might. The operator made him think that he had 
cut off his right hand, and he realized all the pain, the bleeding, the anx- 
iety of such a calamity. The operator made him mistake cold water for 
water boiling hot, for vinegar, for wormwood, &c, and to experience all 
the effects from handling and tasting it, which these agents severally pro- 
duce. He made him think that he threw a rope over the moon, drew it 
down to him, and found it to be a large green cheese. He seemed much 
amused, but not surprised. The operator had such entire control over the 
patient's mind as well as muscles, that whatever impression he made upon 
it, continued upon it, and had all the force of a reality until he removed 
it. In whatever position or motion he put the body, and whatever im- 
pression he made upon the mind, the same continued until he changed it; 
and he changed it without touching the patient, by only speaking to him. 
During the whole time, the patient was perfectly conscious of what was 
said and done, and recollected all his impressions and feelings after the 
spell was over. In this respect, as well as some others, cases of Electro- 
Biology differ from ordinary cases of Mesmerism. Yet they seem to be 
essentially the same, in their general character. 



MESMERISM. 355 

excite associated ideas, and the absence of the corrective 
power ordinarily supplied by past experience, are duly kept 
in view, many of the supposed ' higher phenomena ' of 
Mesmerism may be accounted for, without regarding the 
patient, on the one hand, as possessed of extraordinary 
powers of divination, or on the other as practising deception. 
Thus bearing in mind that somnambulism is an acted dream, 
the course of which is governed by external impressions, 
it is easy to understand how the subject of it may be direct- 
ed, by leading questions, to enter buildings which he has 
never seen, and to describe scenes which he has never 
witnessed, without any intentional deceit. 

" The love of the marvellous, so strongly possessed by many 
of the witnesses of such exhibitions, prompts them to grasp 
at and to exaggerate the coincidences in all such perform- 
ances, and to neglect the failures ; and hence reports are 
given to the public, which, when the real truth of them is 
known, prove to have been the results of a series of guesses, 
the correctness of which is in direct relation to the amount 
of guidance afforded by the questions themselves. 

u In like manner, the manifestations of the excitement of 
4 phrenological organs,' seems to depend upon the convey- 
ance of a suggestion to the patient, either through his knowl- 
edge of their supposed seat, or through the anticipations ex- 
pressed by the by-standers. Many instances are recorded, in 
which the intention has been stated of exciting one organ, 
whilst the finger has been placed upon, or pointed at, another ; 
and the resulting manifestation has always been that which 
would flow from the former. It does not hence follow that 
intentional deception is practised by the somnambulist ; 
since the condition of mind already referred to, causes it 
to respond to the suggestion which is most strongly con- 
veyed to it. Many of the emotional states are readily 
excitable, by placing the muscles in the condition which 
naturally expresses them ; — thus the combative tendency 
may be called forth by gently flexing the fingers, so as to 
double the fist ; a cheerful, hilarous mood may be induced 
by drawing outwards the corners of the mouth, as in laugh- 
ter ; and this may be exchanged for the reverse state of 
gloom and ill-temper, by drawing the eyebrows downwards 



356 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



and towards each other, as in frowning. In like manner 
on putting the hand upon the vertex, the somnambulist 
draws himself up, and shows the manifestations of self- 
esteem ; whilst the depression of the head into the position 
of humility calls for the corresponding emotion. Those who 
have carefully observed the habits of infants and young chil- 
dren, must perceive the accordance of these phenomena 
with those which continually present themselves at that 
early period of life, when the condition of the mind is so 
completely under the government of suggestions received 
from without. 

" In regard to the alleged powers, which are said to be 
possessed by many somnambulists, of reading with the eyes 
completely covered, or of discerning words inclosed in 
opaque boxes, the author need only here express his com- 
plete conviction that no case of this description has ever 
stood the test of a searching investigation." * 



METHOD OF INDUCING SOMNAMBULISM. 

The somnambulic state is frequently induced by the ordi- 
nary process of Mesmerism. But there are other methods 
of inducing it. " The modes in which the artificial somnam- 
bulism may be induced," says Dr. Carpenter, " are ex- 
tremely various. The experiments of Mr. Braid have 
shown, that one of the most essential is the continued con- 
vergence of the eyes upon a bright object, held at a small 
distance above and in front of them, and gradually approxi- 
mated towards them. The more steady direction of the eyes 
towards a distant object, in persons who have often practised 
the former method, frequently serves to induce this state. 
All the phenomena described in the preceding paragraphs 
have been witnessed by the author in individuals thus ' hyp- 
notized ; ' and he considers that this curious class of obser- 
vations cannot be better prosecuted than by the employment 
of that method. He is not yet satisfied that, in the ordi- 
nary mesmeric process, any other influence than this is really 

* Carpenters ^Physiology, pp. 732, 733. 



er, 



MESMERISM. 357 

exerted ; but the patient is sent to sleep with the dominant 
idea that some influence is exercised by the mesmerizer, 
and this idea affects all the subsequent phenomena, — pro- 
ducing, for example, in some cases, insensibility to every 
thing but what is said by the mesmerizer, or by an individ- 
ual placed by him en rapport with the somnambulist. It 
will generally be found, that the degree of this supposed 
connection depends upon the notions of it previously formed 
by the individual mesmerized. In the hypnotic state, there 
is an entire absence of any such peculiar influence ; the 
somnambulist being equally conscious of what is said or 
done by every by-stander." * 

CONCLUSION. 

If the above views are correct, the line of demarkation 
between the terra cognita and the terra incognita, in rela- 
tion to this subject, is pretty distinctly defined. A state of 
artificial coma, somnambulism, exaltation of the senses, in- 
creased muscular energy, in connection with the effect of 
the operator's mind guiding that of the patient by sugges- 
tions, is fully conceded as the result of mesmeric influence ; 
and to this we may undoubtedly add whatever of charm, 
fascination, and other pleasing and painful excitements 
would naturally attend such extraordinary states. 

Thus far science clearly conducts us ; all beyond seems 
somewhat involved in uncertainty. Yet we ought to hold 
ourselves ever subject to the teachings of experience and of 
well ascertained facts ; — it is impossible to foretell to what 
scientific conclusions they may yet bring us. The history 
of the past is too replete with instruction, to allow prejudice 
or pride of opinion to stand against any doctrine sustained 
by a severe induction of facts. Facts are at once both the 
pioneers and the rearguards of science. 

THEORIES OF CLAIRVOYANCE. 

There are three ways in which men undertake to explain 
the alleged facts of clairvoyance. First, by accidental 

* Carpenter's Physiology, p. 735. 



858 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

coincidence. They assert that the cases of failure are so 
numerous, that the instances of correct guessing are ac- 
counted for on the natural ground of chance. Secondly, by 
suggestion. They suppose that the suggestions of the ope- 
rator, enforced by the previous expectation and habitual 
training of the patient, will naturally conduct to as many 
true answers as are ordinarily obtained. This seems to 
have been Dr. Carpenter's theory. Still there are some 
cases which it is very difficult to solve in either of these 
ways. 

The third method or theory of solution admits more of 
the extraordinary, and more fully recognizes all the alleged 
facts. It is as follows : — Every man's will is the natural 
agent to move his own mind and body ; but the nerves of 
some persons are less isolated than those of others. They 
have less individuality ; are more susceptible to being 
influenced. Hence a person of great positiveness may, 
by mesmeric influence, obtain such control over a person 
of great passivity, as to subject the passive will entirely to 
his own. His mind enters, as it were, into the nervous 
system of the patient ; and the patient's mind either retires 
and sleeps, or acts as the master mind prompts it. If the 
master mind wills to go abroad in imagination, the subject- 
mind goes with it, obedient to its volitions. 

Such is the substance of the theory ; of its value I have 
nothing to say. Whether there are facts for which the first 
two methods of explanation do not provide, or whether the 
third method explains all, if admitted ; or whether we must 
as yet acknowledge some unexplained facts ; it would be 
premature at present to decide. But we can scarcely avoid 
the conviction — a conviction from which nothing but the 
irresistible demonstration of facts should drive us — that all 
pretensions to seeing through solid walls ; to discovering 
distant and concealed objects ; to revealing secrets of the 
past and the future ; in short, to any thing like that omnis- 
cience, which Jehovah claims as his sole prerogative, — 
seems at variance alike with the sobriety of science and the 
sacrcdness of religion. 

Yet we ought not to impeach the motives, nor question 
the sincerity of those who admit these pretensions, even if 



QUESTIONS. 359 

we were certain that they are not well founded. A too 
voracious credulity may be their only sin ; and even this 
sin may not be of so enormous dimensions as some would 
imagine. When we consider how few have learned to 
separate facts from pretensions, to institute processes of 
severe inductive examination, to place knowledge and con- 
jecture in the scales of a true judgment ; and when we 
consider, further, how the love of the marvellous, the ele- 
ment of romance, the reaching towards the supernatural, 
enters into the constitution of the human mind, we cease 
to wonder that even the wise and good are sometimes de- 
ceived. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXXII. 

What is said in a recent work on Physiology 1 Opinions of the more 
cautious ? Remarks ? Claims of Mesmerism 1 First condition of pro- 
ducing the mesmerized state ? Second ? Third ? Fourth ? Fifth ? Sixth ? 
Seventh? First effect on the patient 1 ? Explain. Second? Explain. 
Third ? Explain. Fourth? Explain. Remarks of Dr. Carpenter 1 Me- 
thod of inducing somnambulism ? Conclusion ? How much does true 
science admit ? "What reject ? What is said of the motiyes, &c, of those 
who admit the higher pretensions of Mesmerism'? How may we reconcile 
them with sincerity and goodness of intention ? The design of this 
chapter ? Remark 1 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 



SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 



In most cases of suspended animation, either memory 
does not serve, or the mind is unconscious. But in some 
instances both consciousness and memory are active, and 
the subject subsequently reports, with great precision, the 
entire course of his thoughts, during this interesting period. 
That the mind is sometimes active, and at others apparently 
unconscious, during this peculiar state of the body, can 
be explained only on the general principle, that the mind as 
well as the body has its laws of action, and that while their 
intimate connection makes them ordinarily sympathize with 
each other's states, they are yet so essentially distinct, that 
causes affecting the one do not always necessarily affect the 
other in like manner. What puts the body to sleep — so to 
speak — may sometimes put the mind to sleep along with it ; 
under other circumstances, what puts the body to sleep, 
may rouse the mind to unusual activity. So, also, what at 
one time suspends the animal functions, may seem to suspend 
also those of the mind ; while, under a change of circum- 
stances, causes suspending the functions of the body, may 
leave those of the mind in a state of usual or more than 
usual activity. Passing by the more ordinary cases of 
suspended animation, I shall devote a few moments to those 
of a more important character, in this connection, in which 
the subject is for a time supposed to be actually dead. 



APPARENT DEATH. 

Instances of apparent death, in which persons are sup- 
posed actually to have expired, and are even buried alive, 



SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 361 

sometimes occur. They are less frequent than some have 
imagined ; a single instance of the kind, brought into public 
notice, sufficing to fill the imaginations of a whole generation.* 
Many live in bondage all their days through fear of being 
buried alive ; when the chances of such an event could 
hardly be expressed by a fraction.* On recovering from 
this state of apparent death, the subject has ordinarily no 
recollection of experiencing any thing during its continu- 
ance ; but sometimes his mind is highly active and conscious 
throughout, and he remembers his experience with great 
exactness. An instance of this kind, I have concluded, 
after some hesitation, to introduce. 



* Due caution may effectually prevent all chances of a premature burial. 
There are unequivocal methods of distinguishing between mere suspended 
animation and actual death. This is a little aside from my main subject; 
but it is of so much interest and importance, that a few words upon it in 
a note may be excused. 

Physiologists make two stages of death, somatic and molecular. The 
former arrests the circulation. " The permanent and complete cessation 
of the -circulating current, is that which essentially constitutes somatic 
death." — Carpenter's Physiology, p. 603. This may result from a failure, 
in the propulsive power of the heart, constituting syncope ; or from an 
obstruction in the capillaries of the lungs, occasioning asphyxia; or from 
a disordered state of the blood, interrupting the changes in the general 
capillary system essential to vitality, producing necrannia; or from the 
direct agency of excessive cold, overpowering the vital forces and pro- 
ducing universal stagnation. 

Molecular death implies more than all this. It is not only that state in 
which the vital current has entirely ceased to flow, but the very vital prin- 
ciple itself has departed, and left the molecules, or ultimate atoms of the 
system, under a new law of action — the law of chemical agencies. It 
implies, in fact, the incipient stage of mortification. It is the commence- 
ment of the chemical process of dissolution. 

From the constant dependence of all those functional operations, in 
which vital action consists, upon the due supply of the circulating fluid, 
it results, that molecular death, in most cases, immediately follows somatic 
death. But it does not always thus follow. " As a general rule," says 
Carpenter, " we find that the more active the changes which normally 
take place in any tissue during life, the more speedy is its complete loss 
of activity or death, when the requisite conditions of its vital action are 
no longer supplied to it." Hence in children and youth molecular death 
more speedily follows somatic death, than in aged people. " The rapidity 
with which molecular death follows the cessation of the general circula- 
tion, will be influenced by a variety of causes ; but especially by the 
degree in which the condition of the solids and fluids of the body has been 
impaired by the mode of death. Thus in necra3mia, and in death by 
gradual cooling, molecular and somatic death may be said to be simulta- 
neous ; and the same appears to be true of death by sudden aud violent 

31 



362 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



A CASE OF APPARENT DEATH. 

The following facts are from a lady of the highest 
respectability and of the most unquestionable piety. She 
is still living to testify to them. The facts were stated 
to me by her in the hearing of members of her family, 
including her husband, all of whom were present when the 
events occurred. The statements may therefore be relied 
upon with the utmost assurance. 

In the absence of her husband on duty, who was then 
serving as an officer in the army, she was taken ill, and, 
after several days of severe sickness, apparently died. 
Her body was laid out, according to the usual custom ; and 
after a suitable time, arrangements were made for the 
funeral. Friends were assembled by appointment, the usual 
funeral services were performed, and they were about pro- 
ceeding to the burial. During all this time she knew what 
was taking place, but was unable to make known her condi- 
tion. Her eyes were closed, her lips sealed, her flesh was 
cold and stiff, and she was utterly unable to move a muscle. 
She knew that her husband was absent, and that there was 
a possibility of his returning about that time, although he 
was not expected for several days. The utmost time to 

impressions of the nervous system. But in many cases of death by causes 
which suddenly operate in producing syncope or asphyxia, the tissues 
and blood having been previously in a healthy condition, molecular death 
may be long postponed. We cannot be quite certain that it has super- 
vened, until signs of actual decomposition present themselves." Carpen- 
ter's Physiology, p. 604. 

The rule of safety, then, in all doubtful cases, and especially in all cases 
of asphyxia and of syncope, is to wait for the definite signs of molecular 
death. In instances of mere soma, some warmth remains in the vital 
organs, which, on close examination, may ordinarily be detected at the 
arm-pits ; or some other central point. After molecular or absolute death 
has supervened, the vital current freezes to the very centre. This is 
followed by a certain shrinking of the adepose parts, a peculiar marble 
hardness and coldness of the muscles, subsequently attended with a pecu- 
liar odor and change of color, giving unequivocal indications that corrup- 
tion has laid her hand upon the body. Eor such indications, in all cases 
of possible doubt, wc should patiently wait, if we would be sure of not 
placing the living among the dead. And why should friends be so anxious 
to bury their dead from their sight, as to commit them to the grave, before 
they have unquestionable evidence that the grave claims them'? 



SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 363 

which it was thought expedient to defer the funeral on his 
account had arrived, and she endured all the horrors of 
expecting to be buried alive. 

She had the impression that if her husband arrived before 
she was buried, he would arrest the proceeding. Just at 
the agonizing moment, when they were about to carry her 
to the grave, he drove up to the door in a carriage ! The 
thrill produced in her by his arrival, occasioned a slight 
muscular movement; this was followed by another, and 
another, until signs of life appeared. She subsequently 
regained the state of usual health, which she now enjoys. 



REMARKS ON THE ABOVE CASE. 

In the instance above cited, we observe no suspension of 
mental activity, on the one hand, and no trance, on the 
other. The mind was throughout apparently very much in 
its natural state. She thought, reasoned, judged, as usual, 
and afterwards remembered what had happened. All that 
was wanting was the physical power. The will had entirely 
lost its ordinary control over the muscles. The body, as an 
instrument of the mind, had ceased to act. For any thing 
that appears, the mind might be equally active after the 
body is laid in the grave. Still the principle of animal life 
was there ; hence the union of the mind with the body was 
not actually dissolved. The partnership was still in exist- 
ence, although one of the parties had for the time ceased to 
act. The mind willed the eye to open ; the eye did not 
obey ; — it willed the tongue to speak ; the tongue was 
silent ; — it willed the hand to make signals ; no signals did 
it make. The mind was on duty ; the body was in utter 
fault. 



PECULIARITIES OF THIS STATE. 

This state differs from that of dreaming ; the physical 
functions being in a condition more like that of death, while 
those of the mind are the same as we usually have when 



364 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

awake. It is still more unlike that of insanity ; as in this 
state the functions of the body are much in their usual condi- 
tion, while those of the mind are disordered. Yet more, if 
possible, is it unlike those artificial states induced by mes- 
meric influence. In the comatose state, the condition of 
the body bears no strict resemblance to that of death ; and 
the subject, on awaking, has no knowledge of any thing that 
took place during the state of coma. And when the subject 
of mesmeric influence becomes somnambulic, and discovers 
unusual exaltation of the senses and of the muscular energy, 
he departs yet further from the state now in question. Nor 
can we fail to see, that this state is utterly unlike that 
claimed for the supposed subjects of clairvoyancy. There 
is claimed for them a certain power of mental vision, by 
which they see distant and concealed objects, explore the 
dwellings of others and reveal their secrets, tell the histories 
of the past and the events of the future. Nothing of all 
this pertains to the case now examined. The person to 
whom we have referred knew only what she was ordinarily 
wont to know, and what others knew around her. She 
could not even see her best friend, and had no knowledge 
of his coming, until he actually arrived. The case is there- 
fore divested of all mystery, all marvel, save only that the 
mind can be so entirely active, when the body is to all 
appearance dead. Even this ceases to be wonderful, when 
we consider that the mind is active by virtue of its own 
nature, independently of the body. In this case, the mind 
was acting, as usual, and trying to act itself out — that is, 
to manifest its activity — through the body ; but the body 
was not for the time under its control. 



CONCLUSION. 

We can explain the operation of this person's mind, during 
the state of apparent death, on natural principles. There 
was no apparent violation, no transcending, of the known 
and established laws of mental operation. During her 
sickness, her mind was intensely anxious for the return of 
her husband. This was the one absorbing thought, at the 



SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 365 

time the bodily functions failed. The suspension of breath- 
ing and of the circulation of the blood, was followed by that 
paleness, coldness, and fixedness of muscle, which so much 
resemble the state of death. 

In the mean time, the train of thought and association 
was continued in the mind as usual. Her eyes being fixedly 
closed, she probably saw little or nothing, but her sense of 
hearing might have continued sufficiently active to hint to 
the mind what was going on around her. When the mind 
is awake with anxiety and suspicion, it requires but a feeble 
hint to tell the whole story of what is passing. How often 
do we observe a sick person, whom we imagine sunk below 
the power of noticing any thing that takes place around 
him, catching every whisper from the lips of the physician, 
and interpreting with wonderful exactness every thing said 
and done. Let us now suppose the breathing and circula- 
tion suspended and the muscular energies paralyzed, and 
we have a parallel to the case of apparent death above 
related. 

The reader is perhaps aware of the great influence of the 
emotional power of the mind over the body. In some 
instances, persons all but dead have been roused to action, 
by something addressed to their mental feelings. I was 
once called to visit a lady past the age of ninety, who was 
thought to be dying, and who for some time had been in a 
state of apparent unconsciousness. Children and friends, 
weeping around her, were seeking in vain to get the evi- 
dence of a single recognition. Her eyes were closed, her 
muscles set ; her pulse was scarcely perceptible : — nothing 
said or done elicited any signs of consciousness. She had 
been a devoted Christian for threescore years ; I had 
therefore a right to presume what was her ruling passion. 
Placing my lips close to her ear, I asked her if she knew 
Jesus Christ. Instantly, to the surprise and joy of all, 
tears stole down her cheeks, emotion began to play on her 
pale and withered face, one muscle after another began to 
act ; her arms moved ; she revived and lived several clays, 
to leave her parting blessing, and then fell sweetly asleep, 
to awake only in heaven. 

To recur to the case of apparent death. The subject of 



366 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY: 

this state, aware of what was passing, naturally became 
more and more anxious, as the hour for burial approached. 
Her feelings on this subject must have reached a point of 
extreme intensity, when at last they were about to carry her 
to the grave. All her hopes were suspended on the arrival 
of her husband; and just at this moment, he arrived! 
From a state of most intense depression, her mind was sud- 
denly exalted to one of most transporting joy. Such 
mental electricity was adequate to do what no other means 
could ; it started again the suspended wheels of physical 
life, — the heart moved, the blood stirred in the veins, the 
stubborn muscles became again obedient to the mind. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXIII. 

What is said of suspended animation ? Of apparent death 1 Notice 
the case mentioned. What is said in the note about death ? Remarks on 
the case cited ? Wherein does it differ from dreaming ? From insanity ? 
From artificial coma? From artificial somnambulism* From clairvoyance? 
What remains that is marvellous ? When does this cease to he so ? 
What is said in conclusion ? 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 
TRANCE. 

Trance is a state of suspended animation, in a greater 
or less degree, in which the mind passes from its natural 
condition into an ecstasy. It is usually of a religious kind, 
and implies a special exaltation of the spiritual nature. It 
has no necessary resemblance to clairvoyance ; it assumes 
no divine prerogative ; it has nothing to do with discovering 
stolen property, or revealing a neighbor's secrets, or pre- 
dicting future events ; it is a spiritual perception, a fervid 
imagination, a glowing heart, communing with the subjects 
of revealed truth. 

Trances are of every degree, from ordinary instances of 
great religious abstraction, to the seraphic ecstacy of Paul. 
Such was his trance, that he informs us he could not tell 
whether he was in the body or out of the body ; but he was 
caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, 
which it is not lawful for a man to utter. 

Some religious sects abound in trances more than others, 
owing probably to the importance they attach to them. By 
placing the mind and body in situations favorable to induce 
them, by ardently seeking and expecting them, they may 
often be obtained, when they would not come spontaneously. 

The following instance occurred at a house in the coun- 
try, where I was at the time boarding. A religious service 
was held there in the evening, and a Methodist preacher 
delivered an animated discourse. At the close of the 
sermon, permission was given to all present to speak. 
Among others, a lady of about twenty-five arose and spoke. 
After relating her religious experience, with great apparent 



368 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

emotion, she swooned and fell. As it was presumed she 
would soon revive, no alarm was felt. She was removed to 
a chamber in a state of apparent insensibility, in which she 
continued two days and three nights, or about sixty hours. 
During the second day, scarcely a symptom of life appeared. 
No pulse could be felt, no movement of the lungs could be 
observed ; the body was cold, the eyes were closed, and the 
mouth so firmly set that it could not be opened. On the 
morning of the third day, a feeble pulse was observed, some 
warmth and other signs of animation appeared. Soon after, 
she suddenly opened her eyes, and commenced singing. 

She had no knowledge of what had taken place, and after 
concluding her song, asked where the people were who had 
been present at the meeting. She said she had been to 
heaven, had seen the Saviour, had joined in the songs of the 
Redeemer, and had realized such views of the heavenly world 
and such experience of its joys, as she would not exchange 
for whole years of worldly pleasures. But the whole sixty 
hours had not seemed to her but a few moments. She could 
at first hardly believe that the religious meeting had actually 
closed. 

The excellent character of this young woman precludes 
all reasonable doubt of her entire sincerity. She was of a 
highly nervous temperament, of great religious devotion, 
and of singular simplicity and purity of purpose. She has 
since died as she lived, trusting in the Saviour, and leaving 
the best of evidence that she has in truth gone to realize 
the eternal enjoyments of that world, of which she had in 
trance, like Paul, received the foretaste. 



TRANCE OF REV. WILLIAM TENNENT. 

One of the most remarkable trances on record, is that of 
Rev. Wm. Tennent. The following account of it is taken 
from his Memoir, written by Dr. Boudinot, the late venera- 
ble President of the American Bible Society, who was an 
intimate acquaintance of Mr. Tennent, and had the facts 
from his own lips. They are also confirmed by others, who 



TRANCE. 369 

were personal witnesses of all the facts, excepting of course 
those which were known only to Mr. Tennent himself. 

"From the very nature of several things, of which an 
account will be given," says Dr. Boudinot, " they do not 
indeed admit of any other direct testimony than that of the 
remarkable man to whom they relate. But if there ever 
was a person, who deserved to be believed unreservedly on 
his own word, it was he. He possessed an integrity of soul 
and a soundness of judgment, which did actually secure him 
an unlimited confidence from all who knew him. Every 
species of deception, falsehood, and exaggeration, he abhor- 
red and scorned. He was an Israelite indeed, in whom 
there was no guile." * 

The reader may be interested to know something of the 
personal appearance and general religious character of him, 
who was the subject of the following trance. His biographer 
says, " Mr. Tennent was rather more than six feet high; of 
a spare thin visage, and of an erect carriage. He had 
bright, piercing eyes, a long sharp nose, and a long face. 
His general countenance was grave and solemn, but at all 
times cheerful and pleasant with his friends. It may be 
said of him, with peculiar propriety, that he appeared, in an 
extraordinary manner, to live above the world and all its 
allurements. He seemed habitually to have such clear views 
of spiritual and heavenly things, as afforded him much of 
the foretaste and enjoyment of them. His faith was really 
and experimentally " the substance of things hoped for, and 
the evidence of things not seen. Take him in his whole 
demeanor and conduct, there are few of whom it might 
more emphatically be said, that he lived the life and died 
the death of the righteous." f He lived to the age of 
seventy-two, and was for half a century a distinguished 
and eminently useful minister of the gospel in Freehold, 
N. J. Such was the man, of whom the following extraor- 
dinary trance is related. 

"His intense application," says his biographer, "affected 
his health, and brought on a pain in his breast and a slight 
hectic. He soon became emaciated, and at length was like 

* Memoir, p. 7. t Memoir, p. 64, 



370 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

a living skeleton. His life was now threatened. He was 
attended by a physician, a young gentleman who was 
attached to him by the strictest and warmest friendship. 
He grew worse and worse, till little hope of life was left. 
In this situation his spirits failed him, and he began to enter- 
tain doubts of his final happiness. He was conversing, one 
morning, with his brother, in Latin, on the state of his soul, 
when he fainted and died away. 

" After the usual time, he was laid out on a board, accord- 
ing to the common practice of the country, and the neigh- 
borhood were invited to attend his funeral on the next day. 
In the evening, his physician and friend returned from a 
ride into the country, and was afflicted beyond measure at 
the news of his death. He could not be persuaded that it 
was certain ; and on being told that one of the persons, who 
hatl assisted in laying out the body, thought he had observed 
a little tremor of the flesh under the arm, although the body 
was cold and stiff, he endeavored to ascertain the fact. 

" He first put his own hand into warm Water, to make it as 
sensible as possible, and then felt under the arm, and at the 
heart, and affirmed that he felt an unusual warmth ; though 
no one else could. He had the body restored to a warm 
bed, and insisted that the people, who had been invited to 
the funeral, should be requested not to attend. To this the 
brother objected as absurd, the eyes being sunk, the lips 
discolored, and the whole body cold and stiff. However, 
the doctor finally prevailed, and all probable means were 
used to discover symptoms of returning life. 

" But the third day arrived, and no hopes were entertained 
of success but by the doctor, who never left him night nor 
day. The people were again invited, and assembled to 
attend the funeral. The doctor still objected, and at last 
confined his request for delay to one hour ; then to half an 
hour ; and finally to a quarter of an hour. He had discov- 
ered that the tongue was much swollen, and threatened to 
crack. He was endeavoring to soften it by some emolient 
ointment put upon it with a feather, when the brother came 
in, about the expiration of the last period, and mistaking 
what the doctor was doing for an attempt to feed him, mani- 
fested some resentment, and in a spirited tone said, ' It is 



TRANCE. 371 

shameful to be feeding a lifeless corpse ; - and insisted, 
with earnestness, that the funeral should immediately pro- 
ceed. 

" At this critical and important moment, the body, to the 
great alarm and astonishment of all present, opened its eyes, 
gave a dreadful groan, and sunk again into apparent death. 
This put an end to all thoughts of burying him, and every 
effort was again employed, in hopes of bringing about a 
speedy resuscitation. In about an hour, the eyes again 
opened, a heavy groan proceeded from the body, and again 
all appearance of animation vanished. In another hour life 
seemed to return with more power, and a complete revival 
took place, to the great joy of the family and friends, and 
to the no small astonishment and conviction of very many 
who had been ridiculing the idea of restoring to life a dead 
body. 

" Mr. Tennent continued in so weak and low a state for 
six weeks, that great doubts were entertained of his final 
recovery. However, after that period, he recovered much 
faster, but it was about twelve months before he was com- 
pletely restored. After he was able to walk the room, and 
to take notice of what passed around him, on a Sunday 
afternoon, his sister, who had staid from church to attend 
him, was reading in the Bible, when he took notice of it, 
and asked her w r hat she had in her hand. She answered 
that she was reading the Bible. He replied, i What is the 
Bible ? I know not what you mean ? ' This affected the 
sister so much that she burst into tears, and informed him, 
that he was once well acquainted with it. On her reporting 
this to the brother when he returned, Mr. Tennent was 
found, upon examination, to be totally ignorant of every 
transaction of his life previous to his sickness. He could 
not read a single word, neither did he seem to have any 
idea of what it meant. 

" As soon as he became capable of attention, he was 
taught to read and write, as children are usually taught, 
and afterwards began to learn the Latin language under 
the tuition of his brother. One day, as he was reciting a 
lesson in Cornelius Nepos, he suddenly started, clapped his 
hand to his head, as if something had hurt him, and made a 



372 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

pause. His brother asking him what was the matter, he 
said, that he felt a sudden shock in his head, and it now 
seemed to him as if he had read that book before. By 
degrees his recollection was restored, and he could speak 
the Latin as fluently as before his sickness. His memory 
so completely revived, that he gained a perfect knowledge 
of the past transactions of his life, as if no difficulty had 
previously occurred. 

" This event, at the time, made a considerable noise, and 
afforded not only matter of serious contemplation to the 
devout Christian, especially when connected with what 
follows in this narration, but furnished a subject of deep 
investigation and learned inquiry to the real philosopher and 
curious anatomist. 

" The writer of these Memoirs was greatly interested by 
these uncommon events ; and, on a favorable occasion, 
earnestly pressed Mr. Tennent for a minute account of what 
his views and apprehensions were, while he lay in this 
extraordinary state of suspended animation. He discovered 
great reluctance to enter into any explanation of his percep- 
tions and feelings at this time ; but being importunately 
urged to do it, he at length consented, and proceeded with 
a solemnity not to be described. 

" ' While I was conversing with my brother,' said he, ' on 
the state of my soul, and the fear I had entertained for my 
future welfare, I found myself, in an instant, in another 
state of existence, under the direction of a superior being, 
who ordered me to follow him. I was accordingly wafted 
along, I know not how, till I beheld at a distance an ineffa- 
ble glory, the impression of which on my mind it is impossi- 
ble to communicate to mortal man. I immediately reflected 
on my happy change, and thought, Well, blessed be God ! 
I am safe at last, notwithstanding all my fears. 

" ' I saw an innumerable host of happy beings, surround- 
ing the inexpressible glory, in acts of adoration and joyous 
worship ; but I did not see any bodily shape or representa- 
tion in the glorious appearance. I heard things unutterable. 
I heard their songs and hallelujahs of thanksgivings and 
praise, with unspeakable rapture. I felt joy unutterable 
and full of glory. 



TRANCE. 373 

" l I then applied to my conductor, and requested leave to 
join the happy throng ; on which he tapped me on the shoul- 
der, and said, " You must return to the earth." This seemed 
like a sword through my heart. In an instant, I recollect 
to have seen my brother standing before me, disputing with 
the doctor. The three days, during which I had appeared 
lifeless, seemed to me not more than ten or twenty minutes.* 
The idea of returning to this world of sorrow and trouble, 
gave me such a shock, that I fainted repeatedly.' 

" He added, ' Such was the effect on my mind of what I 
had seen and heard, that if it be possible for a human being 
to live entirely above the world and the things of it, for 
some time afterwards I was that person. The ravishing 
sounds of the songs and hallelujahs that I heard, and the 
very words that were uttered, were not out of my ears, 
when awake, for at least three years. All the kingdoms of 
the earth were in my sight as nothing and vanity ; and so 
great were my ideas of heavenly glory, that nothing, which 
did not, in some measure, relate to it, could command my 
serious attention.' 

" The author," [Dr. Boudinot,] " has been particularly 
solicitous to obtain every confirmation of this extraordinary 
event in the life of Mr. Tennent. He, accordingly, wrote 
to every person he could think of, likely to have conversed 
with Mr. T. on the subject. He received several answers ; 
but the following letter from the worthy successor of Mr. T. 
in the pastoral charge of his church, will answer for the 
author's purpose." t 

As the facts stated in this letter are in substance the 
same as stated above, only a brief extract will be inserted. 
" I said to him," says the writer, " Sir, you seem to be one 
indeed raised from, the dead, and may tell us what it is to 
die, and what you were sensible of while in that state." 
He replied in the following words : " As to dying — I 
found my fever increase, and I became weaker and weaker, 
until, all at once, I found myself in heaven, as I thought. 
I saw no shape as to the Deity, but glory all unutterable ! " 

* This accords with the universal experience, that a state of happiness 
makes time seem to pass quickly. 
t Memoir, pp. 16-18. 

32 



374 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

Here he paused, as though unable to find words to express 
his views, and lifting up his hands, proceeded, " I can say, 
as St. Paul did, I heard and I saw things all unutterable ! 
I saw a great multitude before this glory, apparently in the 
height of bliss, singing most melodiously. I was transported 
with my own situation, viewing all my troubles ended, and 
my rest and glory begun, and was about to join the great 
and happy multitude, when one came to me, looked me full 
in the face, laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said, 'You 
must go hack? These words went through me ; nothing 
could have shocked me more. I cried out, Lord, must I go 
back ? With this shock, I opened my eyes in this world. 
When I saw I was in the world, I fainted, then came to, 
and fainted for several times, as one probably would naturally 
have done in so weak a situation.' 

" Mr. Tennent further informed me, that he had so 
entirely lost the recollection of his past life, and the benefit 
of his former studies, that he could neither understand what 
was spoken to him, nor write, nor read his own name ; that 
he had to begin all anew, and did not recollect that he had 
ever read before, until he had again learned his letters, and 
was able to pronounce the monosyllables, such as thee and 
thou; but that, as his strength returned, which was very 
slowly, his memory also returned. Yet, notwithstanding 
the extreme feebleness of his situation, his recollection of 
what he saw and heard while in heaven, as he supposed, 
and the sense of divine things, which he there obtained, 
continued all the time in their full strength, so that he was 
continually in something like an ecstasy of mind. ' And,' 
said he, ' for three years, the sense of divine things con- 
tinued so great, and every thing else appeared so completely 
vain, when compared to heaven, that could I have had the 
world for stooping down for it, I believe I should not have 
thought of doing it.'" * 

The distinguished biographer subjoins the following 
remark. " The pious and candid reader is left to his own 
reflections on this very extraordinary occurrence. The facts 
have been stated, and they are unquestionable. The writer 

* Memoir. Springfield edition, 1822, — p. 20. 



TRANCE. 375 

will only ask, whether it be contrary to revealed truth, or to 
reason, to believe, that, in every age of the world, instances 
like that which is here recorded, have occurred, to furnish 
living testimony of the reality of the invisible world, and of 
the infinite importance of eternal concerns ? " * 

A few remarks will be added, respecting the philosophical 
bearings of the above facts upon religion. 

1. They do not absolutely prove the conscious activity of 
the soul beyond death ; for in all such instances the body is 
not actually dead. The principle of animal life still remains. 
Some of the vital organs are still alive. There is some 
vitality at the heart ; the law of animal life is still in force, 
however feebly and imperceptibly ; the body has not passed 
under the law of chemical and mechanical changes. 

2. Such facts, however, so far as they go, favor the doc- 
trine of the soul's continued life and activity after the death 
of the body. Here, as elsewhere, philosophy carries us to 
a certain point, and there leaves us to the revealed light of 
Christianity. If the more active states of the soul have 
been enjoyed, when the body was at its nearest approach to 
death, it is reasonable to conclude, that when the body 
actually reaches the state of death, the soul will reach its 
state of most absolutely free and glorious activity. But it 
remains for Christianity finally to settle this point. 

3. It is perhaps a question, whether the experience of 
persons in such trances is subjective merely, or objective; 
that is, whether the soul is still in the body, and whatever 
is seen and felt is merely the result of an inward experience ; 
or, whether the soul actually leaves the body, and passes for 
a time into the heavenly world, to hold communion with 
objects there. 

If we have taken the right view of animal life, as the 
medium through which the soul acts upon the body, we can- 
not suppose that persons while in trance are ever actually 
dead. They may be in the incipient stages of somatic death, 
but never in a state of molecular or absolute death. The 
soul may either remain in connection with the principle of 
animal life, making no manifestations to this world through 

* Memoir, p. 23. 



376 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

the body, on account of its suspended animation, in which 
case its experience of the heavenly glories is subjective ; 
or, the soul may for a time leave the body, pass into heaven, 
actually see and realize the objects of that world, and then 
return to its earthly tenement ; as the principle of animal 
life revives, and the organs of sense come into play, the soul 
may resume her dominion over the body, and through it 
again commune with the objects of this world. Paul says 
that when he was in trance, he could not tell whether he 
was " in the body or out of the body ; " and if an inspired 
apostle could not tell, even in respect to himself, we may as 
well not attempt to decide the question. 

4. These facts throw interesting light upon the subject of 
memory. They prove, that although men may forget all 
that they have ever learned or experienced, for a long 
period, it may be subsequently recalled. When Mr. Ten- 
nent was apparently dead, he remembered and reflected 
upon the events of his past life. His memory was then in 
full vigor. After he was resuscitated, his memory failed 
him. As his strength returned, his memory revived. This 
shows that although, through the infirmities of sickness or 
age, a man's memory may fail, when he shall have done 
with the body as an instrument, and entered upon a spiritual 
state, like that of the soul in trance, he may have a wakeful 
and perfect recollection of all the events of this life. 

5. These facts conspire with Christianity to teach us the 
immense value of the human soul. Some may be disposed 
to disregard them, as the dreams of a distempered imagina- 
tion ; but this is not the part of a true philosopher. Here 
are incontestible facts ; and it is the true business of philoso- 
phy to meet all facts, whatever they may be, and give them 
a thorough consideration. If, when excluded from all 
possible connection with this world, the soul can have such 
exalted communion with another ; if it can see, hear, feel, 
and in the highest degree, realize, things so far transcending 
all that the natural eye hath seen, or ear heard, or hearfc 
known ; if such a man as Paul, in this state, could say, 
" that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeaka- 
ble words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter ; " * 

* 2 Cor. xii. 4. 



QUESTIONS. 377 

if, in a similar state, such a man as William Tennent could 
say, " The ravishing sounds of the songs and hallelujahs 
that I heard, and the very words that were uttered, were 
not out of my ears, w T hen awake, for at least three years ; 
all the kingdoms of the earth were in my sight as nothing 
and vanity ; and so great were my ideas of heavenly glory, 
that nothing, which did not in some measure relate to it, 
could command my serious attention," — it surely becomes 
us, scarcely less as profound philosophers than as enlightened 
Christians, to put an infinite value upon our spiritual nature, 
and to make it the great object of this brief life to prepare 
for a higher and an endless life to come. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"What is trance? Are trances of various degrees ? How may they be 
induced 1 Relate the instances here mentioned. What is said of the 
person 1 What is one of the most remarkable trances on record % What 
is our authority for it 1 What is said of the subject of it 1 Relate the 
trance, as recorded by the biographer. What was the condition of the 
subject after the trance 1 The state of his mind % The incidents in con- 
nection with his brother 1 His narration to the writer of his Memoir ? 
Substance of the letter to the author 1 First remark on the above ? 
Second? Third? Suggestions? Fourth? Fifth? Concludirjg thoughts ? 



32* 



PART V 



CHAPTER XXXV 



SUMMARY VIEW OF THE LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL 
SCHOOLS. 

The remaining chapters will be devoted to a summary 
view of the principal advocates and doctrines of the leading 
philosophical schools. To give any thing like a history of 
philosophy, in so short a space, would be impossible ; I design 
merely to give an outline of the most important historical 
facts connected with mental science. 



PHILOSOPHY LESS ANCIENT THAN POETRY. 

In the early ages, men were more poetic than philosophi- 
cal. Opening their eyes upon a universe of unexplored 
wonders, imagination was roused ; wonder fired the soul ; 
the glowing language of poetic inspiration fell spontaneous 
from all lips. Hence poetry is the earlier offspring of the 
human mind ; philosophy is of later birth. 

The ancient Egyptians were a comparatively learned 
people ; but vainly we interrogate their hieroglyphic scrawls, 
and even the more legible records of history, to learn much 
of their philosophy. The ancient Jews and Arabians were 
eminently poetic ; but while time has transmitted some of 
the sacred histories and seraphic lyrics of the former, and 
a few fragments from the fairy dreams of the latter, she has 



VIEW OF LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 379 

left us next to nothing, by which to learn the results of their 
philosophical inquiries, or whether indeed such inquiries 
were any very serious part of their studies. 

Among the still more eastern nations of India and 
China, we find the same preponderance of imagination. 



PHILOSOPHY ORIGINATED WITH THE GREEKS. 

Subsequently,- in the palmy days of Greece, her thought- 
ful sons began to look earnestly into the nature and reason 
of things. " The Grreeks seek after wisdom" became a 
proverb, which divine inspiration has handed down to us. 
This proverb seems to single out the -Greeks, as the only 
people at that time engaged in philosophical inquiries ; at 
least it gives them prominence in this particular. 



PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. 

Plato was the father of Grecian philosophy, and about 
the year 400 before Christ became the founder of a school. 
He was soon followed by Aristotle, his pupil, who be- 
came also the founder of another school. Let me not be 
understood to say, that all the peculiar doctrines of these 
schools originated with these patriarchs in philosophy. They 
collected and arranged thoughts suggested at various times 
and places by others, adding thereto the fruits of their own 
great genius and research ; so as to institute the beginnings 
of well defined systems of philosophy. 



SYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY OF SLOW GROWTH. 

Profound and enduring systems of philosophy are of 
slow growth. It is not for any one man, or the men of any 
one age, to monopolize the honor of both laying the founda- 
tion and raising the superstructure of a philosophical system 
to endure the protracted ordeal of time. Great men are 
rendered such by circumstances, not less than by genius 



380 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



and industry. They are the happy men who spring into 
being at the right point of time, to avail themselves of the 
unappropriated fruits of other's minds, and to bring them into 
systematic and enduring relation to their own thoughts and 
to those of coming generations. " If we look back stead- 
fastly upon the past history of philosophy," says Morelle, 
" we may see that it has ever had a progressive develop- 
ment ; that each age has contributed its portion, greater or 
less, and that the agitation between the different schools 
has been, as it were, the pulsations of this forward move- 
ment. Thales and Pythagoras combined the vague theories 
of their age into their own respective systems. Without the 
former, Democritus and the Atomists would have been im- 
possible ; and without the latter, Parmenides and Zeno had 
never embodied, in regular form, the tenets of the Eleatic 
philosophy. The struggle of these two schools paved the 
way for Socrates, and thus rendered Plato and Aristotle 
possible. Without the former of these, the early Christian 
philosophy would not have seen the light ; and without the 
latter, the scholastic philosophy could not possibly have 
arisen." * 

The two philosophical schools, the one founded by Plato, 
and the other by Aristotle, have continued, variously modi- 
fied, to this day, dividing the thinking world, in certain 
fundamental particulars, into two classes. 



LEADING PECULIARITIES OF THESE SCHOOLS. 

The Platonic school maintains, that the mind is created 
with innate principles or ideas, corresponding to the es- 
sence of things, from which knowledge is directly generated. 
The Aristotelian school maintains that the human mind 
is created ivithout any ideas or knowledge whatever, and is 
incapable of originating any, without the aid of the senses. 
Of the former school are Des Cartes, Leibnitz, Kant, and 
most of the modern German with some modern French phi- 

* An Historical and Critical View of the Speculative Philosophy of 
Europe, in the Nineteenth Century, by J. D. Morelle, A. M. 



ito 



VIEW OF LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 381 

losophers. Of the latter school are Bacon, Locke, Reid, 
and the Scotch and English philosophers generally. 

It must not be supposed that the philosophers of the 
former school attach no importance to the senses, as means 
of knowledge ; nor that those of the latter allow no place to 
the original teachings of the mind ; still there is between 
them a radical difference of views on this point, — a differ- 
ence more real in its nature and serious in its effects, than 
any other that has divided philosophers. 



NAMES OF THE SCHOOLS. 

The Platonic school is called also the Cartesian, in honor 
of one of its principal advocates ; it is called the rational 
or metaphysical, as opposed to giving prominence to the 
senses, as means of knowledge ; it is called the transcen- 
dental, as making claims to knowledge by means transcend- 
ing the supposed ordinary operations of the understanding. 

The Aristotelian school is called also the Baconian, in 
honor of one of its principal advocates and in part a found- 
er ; it is called the inductive, empirical, or experimental, 
(from the Greek empeiro, to search or prove ;) it is also 
called sensuous or sensational, because it maintains that 
human knowledge originates in sensation. 

As Lord Bacon may be considered the modern father 
of the one, and Des Cartes of the other; and as British 
writers generally have followed in the steps of Bacon, in the 
essential particulars, and German writers in the steps of Des 
Cartes ; we may properly call the one the German, and the 
other the British school.* French philosophers have been 
divided between these two schools, having in mental science 
no peculiar school of their own. 



* There seem to be certain peculiarities in the structure, circumstances, 
or habits of the German, as distinguished from the English and Scotch 
intellect, which incline the former to favor the rationalistic and con- 
templative philosophy, rather than the inductive and practical. 



382 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



morelle's classification. 



Morelle makes four philosophical schools ; — the sensa- 
tional, the ideal, the sceptical, and the mystical. In a 
critical view, this classification has some importance ; as it 
is intended to indicate certain distinctions actually existing, 
and deserving of notice. But it has its disadvantages ; and, 
in a general view, is quite objectionable. It unites men, who 
differ on points more important than those on which they 
agree ; and it separates men, who agree on points more 
important than those on which they differ. For instance, it 
separates Reid from Locke and Brown, and transfers him 
to Germany, " which, from Koeningsberg to Basle, is still 
advocating the most profound systems of idealism." * It 
occasions not a few other divorces and alliances, equally 
strange and unfortunate. It exalts subordinate differences 
to the rank of generic ones, and of course depresses generic 
differences to the rank of subordinate ones. 

It is true, the author says he uses the word idealism in 
its broadest signification. This he has a right to do, if he 
abides by his definition, — and few writers are more faithful 
than he to their definitions,' — but adopting this significa- 
tion, Locke is as much an idealist as Reid. As applied to 
the German philosophy, idealism is quite different from 
what it is as applied to the Scotch and English philosophy. 
The term rational has acquired a world-wide currency, as 
indicating that phase of the metaphysical school, which 
Morelle had in view. But he was afraid to use it, lest it 
might prove injurious to the school towards which his sym- 
pathies seem on the whole most inclined. " The term ration- 
alism," he says, " would certainly have been better adapted 
to express a philosophy starting from conceptions of reason, 
rather than intimations of sense ; but then it has acquired 
such notoriety in the religious world, that I well knew the 
penalty of pressing it into my service. On the whole, 
therefore, as the term idea is now frequently used to signify 
a mental conception, in opposition to a sensational feeling, I 

* History of Philosophy, p. 797. 



VIEW OP LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 383 

thought it not inappropriate to apply the word idealism, in the 
general sense in which it is found in the following pages." * 

His reason, then, for making Reid an idealist, and Locke a 
sensationalist, is, that " the term idea is now very frequently 
used to signify a mental conception, in opposition to a sensa- 
tional feeling." But did not Locke mean by an idea a mental 
conception f Does he not expressly say, " By an idea, I 
mean that which a man has in his mind, when he is thinking 
about something ? " And what is this but a mental concep- 
tion ? Does Locke ever call " a sensational feeling " an 
idea ? He calls it an occasional cause of ideas. So does 
Reid. The only difference between them here is, that while 
Reid advocates the immediate perception of things, Locke, 
in accordance with the current theory, speaks of perceiving 
through the medium or by means of ideas. Locke consid- 
ered an idea an entity — distinct from the mind itself — and 
so do all the soundest philosophers of the British school, 
Brown excepted. If Reid is an idealist, Locke is equally 
one. On minor points they differ, as I have shown on 
former pages ; but the points of their difference are of 
little moment, compared with those in which they agree. 
The same is true of the difference between Reid and Brown, 
although more serious in this case than in the other. 

If Morelle did injustice to Locke, in considering him, in 
distinction from Reid, a champion of an exclusive sensa- 
tionalism, he did it only as he was misled by Cousin.f There 
must be, in all true systems of philosophy, a sensational as 
well as an idealistic element ; and they whose spectacles do 
not allow them to see but one of these elements, or how to 

* Preface to Hist. Phil., p. 5. 

t In some particulars, Morelle is at present as much in favor of Cousin, 
as, a few years since, he was of Brown. He is yet a young man ; ten 
years more, added to his learning and candor, will probably give him the 
same impartiality towards Locke, which so finely characterizes what he 
has written in relation to most others. 

Cousin undertook to annihilate Locke, and verily thought he had done 
it. What is more, he has succeeded in making some others, for a time, 
think so too. But the name of the great English thinker is still bright on 
the read pages of philosophy, and will continue to be so, long after those 
of the Prench critic shall have passed to the dull pages that are turned 
over and forgotten. 



884 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

blend them, cannot be received as faithful expounders of the 
philosophy of John Locke. No writer ever did more than 
he, in his day, to elevate the mind to its true position as a 
spiritual thinking essence ; to turn its thoughts inward upon 
itself, as the subject-matter of philosophy ; and, in short, to 
expound and defend the principles which lie at the very basis 
of all true idealism. 

An admirable writer, in a Review of Morelle, says, " A 
philosophical system may assume a positive form, when it is 
wholly negative, in its character and mission ; and its pro- 
test against the errors of previous systems may be accepted, 
and never need to be repeated, while its affirmations shall 
be rejected, almost as soon as proffered, or, if adopted, shall 
lead to errors only less gross than those which it supplanted. 
Thus, the true value of Locke's Essay on the Human Un- 
derstanding, is as a protest against objective philosophy, 
which had prevailed alike among the ancients and in , the 
scholastic ages. Ideas had, down to his day, been re- 
garded and treated as detached and independent essences, 
so much so as the objects of physical science. The effort 
had been to analyze, not the states, but the products of 
the intellect, — not to sound the source, but to define the 
forms of ideas. That the mind itself is the subject-matter 
of true philosophy, was a discovery, the honor of which is 
due to Locke alone. He is the father of subjective philoso- 
phy. With this discovery, his positive system gained 
extensive and enduring currency ; and its sensation alistic 
divorced from its idealistic element, led, by routes which he 
neither indicated nor contemplated, to infidelity, naturalism, 
and fatalism. But Kant was as much indebted to him as 
Condillac ; and modern idealism, no less than sensation- 
alism, has pursued the truth, in the route which he first 
opened." * 

* North American Review, April, 1849. Thus our excellent reviewer 
ascribes to Locke the honor of modern idealism. It is curious to observe 
that Morelle refers this same honor to Des Cartes, a philosopher of exactly 
the opposite school. " Des Cartes looking more deeply beneath the phc- 
nominal world, and with iin intense power of reflection, gazing upon the 
mind itself as the instrument and medium by which all truth is perceived, 
gave a new impetus to the rationalistic, method of philosophizing, and 
thus laid the basis of the modern idealism." — Hist, of Phil, p. G4. 



VIEW OP LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 385 



SCEPTICISM AND MYSTICISM. 

Nor are the terms scepticism and mysticism, as applied 
to designate distinct and permanent philosophical schools, 
entirely unexceptionable. The term scepticism does not 
so much indicate a distinct school, as certain results of 
schools which may be essentially different. The ultra ra- 
tionalist, on this hand, and the ultra sensationalist on that, 
educated in different schools, meet together on the ground 
of a common scepticism. It is the place where extremes 
meet ; the ground of malcontents. Dissatisfied with their 
past views, tired of the dogmas imposed by false or partial 
conceptions, gathered from their respective schools, they are 
looking about for something better. They usually move 
off in a direction the opposite to that from which they came. 

On this point, the same reviewer above cited justly 
remarks, " Scepticism* cannot be regarded as a permanent 
form of philosophy. It marks the transition epochs, when 
old dogmas lose their hold on reflective minds, and are just 
going to yield place to more profound and comprehensive 
theories. It is the protest against false and inadequate 
views, which is needed to prepare the way to further devel- 
opments of philosophical truth. 

" Scepticism being an epoch rather than a normal state of 
philosophical speculation, must necessarily have a reaction 
toward some positive system. This may take place in favor 
of idealism, if the sceptical movement had its rise in the 
inconsequent reasonings or untenable conclusions of the sen- 
sationalists, or vice versa. Or it may assume the divine 
agency, as not only the virtual, but the sole proximate 
cause of all mental phenomena, and seek the conclusion 
of all intellectual problems in the attributes and ideas of the 
Supreme Intelligence. Hence mysticism, which, in its 
various modifications, resolves the administration of the in- 
tellectual universe into a theurgy, pervaded by laws or prin- 
ciples corresponding to the individual inquirer's peculiar 
dogmas." 

33 



386 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

The term mysticism indicates a peculiar phase of mind, 
in certain stages of inquiry, at which the explained is reach- 
ing toward the inexplicable, and the natural towards the 
spiritual, rather than a distinct philosophical school. As we 
live in a universe of wonders, which no philosophy can 
fully fathom, the Creator has implanted that in our constitu- 
tion, which, when excited, tends to mysticism ; and its phe- 
nomena must needs constitute a part of all true mental 
science. We can enter no school, where we do not sooner 
or later overtake the unexplained and the wonderful, and 
where mysticism does not, of course, become an element. 
When this element becomes absorbing or excessive, the sub- 
ject of it is called, by way of eminence, a mystic. There 
are as profound mystics among the followers of Locke, as 
among those of Kant. At the same time, it must be con- 
ceded, that some systems of philosophy nourish the mystic 
element more than others. 



ECLECTICISM. 

The term eclecticism may, perhaps, with some pro- 
priety, designate a philosophical school ; but I should prefer 
to dissent from Cousin, in this respect, and consider it a 
term indicating those who belong to no particular school ; 
those who prefer to stand apart, and select from each school 
as their judgments dictate. So far as the term is negative, 
it of course indicates no bond of union ; so far as it is 
positive, it may indicate elections so opposed as to place 
its subjects in quite opposite schools. An eclectic may "be 
a materialist, a transcendentalist, a mystic, or a sceptic. 
Cousin professes eclecticism ; so does Morelle ; so did Hume ; 
so did Shaftsbury. Yet who would consider these men as 
truly belonging to one and the same school. Both Locke 
and Kant ? so far as they went from home after thoughts, 
are eclectics. All men profess to be, and really ought to 
be, such. But they must finally be judged by what they 
actually think and teach. 



QUESTIONS. 387 



CONCLUSION. 

I have therefore concluded to consider mental philosophy 
as descending to us in two generic schools, the ancient 
Platonic and Aristotelian, the modern German and British. 
Both of these schools are really sensational, as both rely — 
the latter more than the former — upon the teachings of 
sensation ; both are alike ideal ; both have their sceptics, 
and both their mystics. But the German school is the 
more rationalistic and transcendental ; the British, the more 
inductive and experimental. The former assumes most ; the 
latter proves most. The former relies most upon innate 
ideas and spontaneous suggestions of the mind itself; the 
latter, upon what the mind learns, by a slow and cautious 
induction of facts. The former begins with principles and 
ends with facts ; the latter begins with facts and ends with 
principles. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXV. 

Subject of remaining chapters ? "What is proposed ? Comparative an- 
tiquity of philosophy ? With whom did it originate 1 Proverb ? Who 
was the father of Grecian philosophy 1 Who succeeded him ? What is 
said of them ? What of the growth of philosophical systems ? State the 
leading peculiarities of the two schools ? Who are mentioned of the for- 
mer school 1 Who of the latter ? By what names is the Platonic school 
called 1 The Aristotelian 1 What reasons for calling the one the Ger- 
man, and the other the British school ? Remark in the note on peculiari- 
ties of German mind, &c. ? Morelle's classification 1 Objections to it ? 
His reasons for considering Reid an idealist, and Locke a sensationalist ? 
Remarks on them ? Substance of the remarks from the Review ? What 
is said of scepticism and mysticism ? What of sceptics 1 Of mystics ? 
Of eclecticism 1 Conclusion ? 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 



Plato, the father of this school, was scarcely less re- 
nowned for his poetry and eloquence than for his philosophy. 
It is fabled, that while in his cradle, bees shed honey upon 
his lips ; thus presaging the future powers of his eloquence.* 
In his youth he composed several tragedies and elegies, 
which, when he determined to devote himself to philosophy, 
he gave to the flames. Still the poetic inspiration followed 
him, and became an important element in his philosophy. 
Like Coleridge, who has been called the modern Plato, he 
may be styled the poetic philosopher. 

It is interesting to notice the mental peculiarities of the 
two fathers of philosophy, and to trace them through the 
respective schools, down to the present time. Aristotle 
was cool, cautious, plodding ; Plato was ardent, confiding, 
ready ; with the former, knowledge came by searching ; 
with the latter, it seemed to gush up spontaneously. With 
the one, it was severe knowledge ; with the other, a mixture 
of imagination. The mental habits of the former, were 
characterized by objectivity ; those of the latter, by subjec- 
tivity. By this is meant, that the former relied mostly upon 
what he learned from without ; the latter, upon the spon- 
taneous promptings of his own mind. Yet Plato was a 
scholar, as well as a genius. The laborious pupil of Socrates 

* Most of the writings of Plato arc translated into English. As their 
original form is beautiful classic Greek, the scholar will prefer to read 
them as they fell from the great author's pen. There is a fine edition of 
his argument against atheism, in the original Greek, published by the 
Harpers, with valuable notes, by Dr. Lewis, of the Univeisity of New 
York city. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 389 

and teacher of Aristotle and Demosthenes, his mind took a 
wide range over the fields of literature, and gathered fruits 
from every clime. His philosophy strikes not a few notes, to 
which there are responsive chords in the human soul ; and, 
by the aid of his learning, he gave it an enduring name 
and place among men. 



RENE DES CARTES. 

The Platonic philosophy subsided into a state of dor- 
mancy, in which it mostly remained, through a long period, 
until the early part of the seventeenth century, when it 
was revived by Des Cartes. He was a French nobleman, 
of distinguished talents and extensive learning. Commenc- 
ing with the knowledge of his own mind, of which he found 
evidence in the consciousness of thinking,* he ascended 
to the conception of the Infinite Mind — the perfect and 
Supreme Being. 

Finding what he was thus led to conceive verified in the 
evidences of design around him, he inferred the infallibility 
of human reason ; since it was not presumable that such a 
being as God would give us reason to mislead us. In the 
old Platonic philosophy, he found some of the elements of 
what he conceived to be the right mode of thinking. This 
philosophy does not, like the Aristotelian, proceed by an 
induction of particulars to establish general principles ; it 
starts with general principles, deduced directly from the 
mind, and proceeds to apply them to the scientific classifica- 
tion of particulars. Principles innate to the mind, being 
assumed as a type of all that is to be learned without, what 
is taught by the senses is considered secondary to what is 
learned directly by inward teachings. Keason teaches us 
how things must be ; rather than things themselves, how 
they are. Reason gives laws to objective facts, rather than 
facts to reason. 

Philosophizing in this way, his fine genius naturally struck 
out rich and original thoughts, and formed visionary theories. 

* " Cogito ; ergo sum." 

33* 



390 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

A comprehensive and logical reasoner, he framed a meta- 
physical system, which has been the basis of many subsequent 
speculations. He supposed the essence of mind to consist 
in thinking ; the essence of matter, in extension; that as 
extension is every where, the universe is of course an in- 
finitely extended plenum ; hence the heavenly bodies do 
not revolve in empty space, but in vortices or whirlpools. 
Holding to the natural immortality of the soul, on the ground 
of its indecomposability, and to the mortality of brutes, his 
theory made them mere machines, without soul, thought, 
emotion, volition. 

To explain the mode of communication between the soul 
and the body, he supposed a very subtle fluid, secreted from 
the blood, and called " animal spirits" to circulate in the 
nerves, and to convey intelligence from every part of the 
body to the soul resident in the 'pineal gland of the brain ; 
and thence, also, to convey the commands of the soul to all 
the muscles employed in voluntary motion.* 

" His writings excited much attention, and they prompted 
many to engage in philosophical studies ; but they also met 
with great opposition. Gassendi and the adherents of the 
Baconian method, of course rejected his views. The Jesuits 
in France, and many of the Protestants in Holland, did the 
same. In England, he scarcely had a follower. His prin- 
cipal adherents in France were several of the Messieurs 
de Port-Royal, especially Malebranche; and in Holland, 
Spinoza and a few others." t 



BENEDICT SPINOZA. 

The next conspicuous name, in this connection, is that of 
Benedict Spinoza, a learned Jew of Amsterdam. He 

* -' Des Cartes, observing that the pineal gland is the only part of the 
brain that is single, all the other parts being double, and thinking that the 
*oul must have one seat, was determined by this to make that gland the 
soul's habitation, to which, by means of the animal spirits, intelligence is 
brought of all objects that affect the senses." Reid's Works, Vol. II., 
p. 104. 

t Sketches of Modern Philosophy, especially among the Germans. By 
James Murdock, D.D. An excellent Compcnd, to which I am much 
indebted, and which the reader will do well to consult. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 391 

was born in 1632, and, unlike most philosophers, died at an 
early age, being only forty-five. A warm admirer of Des Car- 
tes, he yet thought to improve upon his system. Assuming 
Des Cartes' definition of a substance — " a thing which so 
exists, as not to depend on any thing else for its existence " — 
he legitimately inferred, that God alone is that substance, 
since of him alone independent existence is predicable. 

" There is then," said he, " but one real substance, and 
that substance is God. As universal substance is God, all 
creatures, all things, are but parts of God. In the idea of 
substance, he includes both mind and matter. When God 
creates minds, he sends forth a portion of his own mind ; 
when he creates matter, a portion of his own material sub- 
stance. The mind and the matter, thus created, do not 
become separate existences, but are still only God himself 
extended or reproduced. This is pantheism. God is in 

EVERY THING, AND EVERY THING IS GOD. 

" By virtue of the divinity in man, we are competent to 
know all truth. The object which we can most easily know 
and most perfectly comprehend, is God ; since he is per- 
petually dwelling and developing himself within and around 
us. To know that of which we are conscious, is to know 
God ; to know that which is about us, is to know God. 
Every thing within and around us, reveals to us God; 
whom to know, is our highest happiness ; to obey, our most 
perfect freedom. " It would seem, in this view, that man can 
hardly fail to be a very happy being, whatever might be the 
fate of his freedom. 

"It is manifest,'' says Murdock, "that he carried his 
speculations quite beyond the bounds of human knowledge, 
and ran into downright transcendentalism, in which obscurity 
must ever reign."* 



NICHOLAS MALEBRANCHE. 

Of the same school was Nicholas Malebranche, of 
Paris, a devout Jesuit, whose Inquiry after Truth was 

* Modern Philosophy, p. 29. 



392 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

published in 1673. He has been considered one of the 
most original and profound thinkers of France.* His work 
was published in a revised and enlarged form, but three 
years before he died, in 1712. With Spinoza, he supposed 
the soul to be a portion of the divinity, or the divine reason, 
(Logos) and all matter to be a development of the one 
infinite substance. Sometimes, however, his language 
seems to import nothing more than a mystical union of our 
souls with God. Holding the source of error to be in the 
senses, and the source of truth in God, if we would aspire to 
pure truth, we must rise superior to the senses, and view 
things in the position of the Divine Mind. 

In common with others of this school, he supposed the 
immediate objects of our knowledge to be only the ideas of 
things, not the things themselves.^ As these ideas existed 
in the divine mind, before any thing was created, in propor- 
tion as Ave commune with the divine mind, we apprehend 
the true ideas of things, as God does, and not as they are 
furnished by the uncertain senses. Maintaining God to be 
the object of our immediate vision, while all other objects 
are seen indirectly, he completely reversed the common 
doctrine on this subject. He went even beyond his own 
school ; for supposing that we see all things in God, he saw 
no necessity for holding the theory of innate ideas, since 
knowledge is more surely obtained directly at the source, 
than by any thing that can represent it. Hence the theory 
of innate ideas fell out of his philosophy. Malebranche was 
a religious enthusiast. The marks of sincerity, simplicity, 
devoutness of soul, pervade his writings, and prove that a 
spirit averse to all infidelity, rather than a love of daring 
speculation, became the occasion of his philosophical errors. 
His style is easy and inviting, affording some of the finest 
specimens of the French language at that period. 

* " Malebranche, with a very penetrating genius, entered into a more 
minute examination of the powers of the human mind than any before 
him." Reid, Vol. II., p. 128. 

t " It is obvious that the system of Malebranche bears no evidence of the 
existence of a material world, from what we perceive by our senses ; for 
the divine ideas, which arc the objects immediately perceived, were the 
same before the world was created." Reid, Vol. II, p. 150. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 393 



LEIBNITZ AND WOLF. 

The name of Godfrey William vox Leibnitz, is of 
world-wide renown.* He led on the German mind in the 
track of its modern philosophy. He was contemporaneous 
with John Locke. These two philosophers were the prin- 
cipal antipodes of their day. on the main question that 
divided the schools. Leibnitz was an extensive scholar, a 
deep thinker, a rare genius. Although following mainly in 
the remote steps of the great Plato, he had the courage to 
do his own thinking. It was his ambition and his aim, to 
make philosophy as perfect a science of reason as the pure 
mathematics, thereby to settle all disputes and put the 
world at rest. 

He began, by laying down the principles of pure reason, 
drawn directly from the mind's original furniture, and pro- 
ceeded to build thereon his logical demonstrations. He 
labored the same great idea that had descended from Plato — 
the competency of the mind to educe from itself a perfect 
system of philosophy. To settle the truth of abstract and 
general principles, he applied the mathematical tests of 
identity or contradiction : to settle the question of facts, the 
proof deduced from the relations of cause and effect. He 
hence differed from Des Cartes in this particular, that while 
Des Cartes held the proof of ideas to be in themselves, 
whenever they are clearly perceived, he held that they 
require and may have logical proof; first, directly from the 
innate principles and spontaneous conceptions of the mind 
itself; secondly, by reasoning from effects to causes. 



* He was highly respected by emperors, and by many kings and princes, 
who bestowed upon him singular marks of their esteem. He was a par- 
ticular favorite of Queen Caroline, consort of George II., with whom he 
continued his correspondence by letters after she came to the crown of 
Britain, till his death. The famous controversy between him and the 
mathematicians of Great Britain, whether he or Sir Isaac Newton was the 
inventor of that noble improvement in mathematics, called by Xewton 
the Method of Fluxions, and by Leibnitz the Differential Method, engaged 
the attention of the mathematicians in Europe for several years. Reid's 
Works. Vol. II- p. 233. 



394 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

For his curious and ingenious theories respecting Monads, 
Pre-established Harmony, and the Best System, the reader 
is referred to his writings ; or, for a lucid condensation of 
them in English, to Murdock's Modern Philosophy of the 
Germans. A notice of them would require too much room 
here, and would not comport with the general design of this 
work. 

The philosophy of Leibnitz encountered some opposition, 
which it soon surmounted, on its way to universal ascendency 
over Protestant Germany. Its great expounder and de- 
fender was Christian Wolf, himself also a German, born 
in 1679. He lived to the age of seventy-five, devoting most 
of his life to explaining and improving the Leibnitzian phi- 
losophy. He pushed the plan of Leibnitz to the extreme of 
carrying the strictly mathematical method into all his inves- 
tigations.* To him, mainly, the Germans are indebted, for 
their copious list of technical terms, derived mostly from the 
Greek language. 

" This Leibnitzian Wolfian philosophy reached its culmi- 
nating point about the middle of the eighteenth century. 
Soon afterwards, from various causes, it began to decline. 
Many had all along questioned the soundness of its princi- 
ples, and still more the tendencies of some of its doctrines. 
The downright pedantry of most of its advocates, who 
dogmatized ostentatiously, and stuffed their writings with 
formal demonstrations of the simplest truths, rendered it 
disgusting to well-informed minds. About the same time, 
Locke's principles, or those of the empirical school, found 
their way into Germany. And these principles were propa- 
gated in, and along with, the writings of the English and 
French deists and sceptics, (Hume, Voltaire, Rousseau, 
&c.,) which began now to circulate extensively, and to pro- 
duce in that country a set of free thinkers and contemners 
of long established opinions. The friends of revealed re- 
ligion were alarmed at the progress of infidelity and scep- 
ticism, under the assumed name of philosophy ; and they 
anxiously inquired, What is true philosophy ? It was amid 

* See his " Psychologia Rationalist also " Psychologia Empirical 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 395 

this state of things, that Emanuel Kant appeared on the 
stage, as a master spirit, controlling and guiding public 
opinion by his superior talents."* 



EMANUEL KANT. 

This illustrious philosopher was born at Koningsberg, in 
1724. His whole life was spent in that city ; he is said, 
indeed, never to have travelled from it more than twenty-two 
miles. He lived to the advanced age of eighty. Of great 
acuteness, patient study, profound thought, and of most 
pure and amiable character, through a long life, his name 
became every where the synonyme of whatever is great and 
worthy. 

The system of Kant is called the Critical Philosophy. It 
is decidedly of the rationalistic school, although it calls to 
its aid some of the principles of the inductive. He held 
philosophy to be a science of pure Reason, at whose bar all 
questions must be tried. Yet the senses and the under- 
standing have their importance. He supposed that man 
possesses three distinct faculties, rising one above the other 
in the following order of importance, — Sensation, Under- 
standing, Reason. He considered Sensation a mere 
receptive faculty, conveying to the mind only impressions 
made by the objects around us. From this source we learn 
only the phenomena of things, within the range of the senses ; 
nothing of the essential nature of the things' themselves. 
The Understanding, is the faculty which apprehends the 
materials furnished by the senses, and of them forms concep- 
tions and judgments respecting whatever may be learned 
from without. It is restricted in its operations to the sensi- 
ble world, and all the knowledge acquired by it is empi- 
rical. 

Reason, is the grand attribute distinguishing man from 
the brute creation. The sphere of its operations is the 
supersensible world. It has to do directly with spiritual 
and essential truths, general laws, abstract principles. The 

* Modern Philosophy, by Dr. Murdock, p. 43. 



396 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

knowledge which it supplies has respect to the universal 
and the necessary, in distinction from the local and contin- 
gent. It is called rational and pure knowledge, to distin- 
guish it from empirical knowledge, acquired through the 
senses by the understanding, and liable to be diluted with 
error. It is called transcendent, or transcendental, because 
it is from a source transcending the sensual world. The 
decisions of Reason are considered superior to all others. 
All things must be arraigned, tried, and finally settled, at 
her bar. What she knows, is certain ; what is learned by 
the understanding, may be doubted. Reason is fixed ; 
understanding is discursive. 

Reason is both speculative and practical; the former 
imparting to us rational knowledge, the latter enjoining upon 
us rational conduct. The former is, as it were, the eye of 
the soul ; the latter, the moral law within. The former 
teaches what we must believe ; the latter, what we ought to 
do.* 

Many of the truths which Kant recognizes as taught by 
reason, are what I have called intuitive; but he extends 
the province of reason quite beyond what I have supposed 
to be strictly intuitive truths. In his Reason we recognize 
again the Logos of Plato ; the Ratio, of Cicero ; the sup- 
posed divinity within us, of his various predecessors. With 
him, the distinction between reason and reasoning, is not 
merely the distinction between what is indicated by a noun 
and its participle. Things are supposed to be directly 
known by reason, which cannot be known by reasoning. 
Reason is sure ; reasoning may be fallacious. For instance, 
reason teaches the existence of an infinitely perfect Being, 
because she speculatively needs this ideal of absolute excel- 
lence, and because her moral wants demand it; but all 
reasoning to prove the existence of such a Being, is uncer- 
tain. The fact is certain, because directly proclaimed by 
Reason herself ; the mode of reaching it by reasoning, may 
be false. Upon this infallible Reason, — the finite image 

* Kritih der reinen Vernunfl, pp. 800 - 830. The writings of Kant are 
translated into clumsy English. Persons familiar with the German, will 
obtain more clear and satisfactory knowledge of his views in the original, 
than from the translation. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 897 

of God within us, aspiring to the infinite in knowledge, and 
the moral law within us, directing to the Infinite in good- 
ness — this philosopher erects his sublime system of Natural 
and Moral Theology. 



EFFECTS OF KANT'S WRITINGS. 

The writings of this great thinker aroused the German 
mind to high enthusiasm for metaphysical studies, to urgent 
inquiries into the foundation of rational knowledge, and to 
sanguine anticipations of the speedy millennium of philosophy. 
He was followed by various authors, laboring to subvert, 
amend, or enlarge his system ; or to establish other rational 
systems. Amid the various lights of reason, the light of 
revealed truth faded away ; the Bible was either laid upon 
the shelf, or not opened until Reason had first decided what 
it must teach. 

In France, some philosophers went with the German 
transcendentalists ; others, with the extreme and sceptical 
followers of Locke ; the former, mounting upwards into 
the clouds, on the wings of ethereal Reason ; the latter, 
plodding earthward, at the sluggish heels of Understanding. 



OTHER PHILOSOPHERS OF THIS SCHOOL. 

Our limits do not admit a notice of all the writers of this 
school. A faithful notice of most of them and of their 
writings, is found in Morelle's History of Philosophy.* 
Among the most distinguished which we have not noticed, 
are Jacobi, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and Herbart. Jacobi 
was born in 1743, and devoted most of his life to authorship. 
Fichte was born in 1762, was professor of philosophy at 
Zurich, and afterwards at Jena. Schelling was born in 
1775, succeeded Fichte in the chair of philosophy at Jena, 

* Although some exceptions have been taken to this work, it is in the 
main a truly excellent and valuable addition to the stock of philosophical 
lore ; and no part is more faithful and valuable than his account of the 
German philosophy. 

34 



398 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

and was afterwards professor at Wtirzburg. Hegel was 
born in 1770, became first a professor at Jena, and after- 
wards at Berlin. Herbart was born in the year 1776, and 
was at different periods professor at Gottingen and Konings- 
berg. Jacobi is classed with the mystics, and all these 
philosophers, with their pupils, are among the more trans- 
cendental of the German school.* 



VICTOR COUSIN. 

We must pass on to notice a single name, as a representa- 
tive of others, in France. The name of Victor Cousin is 
familiar to all ears. This noted philosopher was born in 
Paris, Nov. 22, 1792. He is still living. He. claims to 
belong to no positive school, but to proceed upon the princi- 
ple of an impartial eclecticism. We do not read far, how- 
ever, without finding his tendencies setting strongly towards 
the rational school. He supposes that the first aberra- 
tion from the true philosophical method comes from Bacon ; 
and as to Locke, although a great and ingenious thinker, 
his Essay on the Understanding is wrong in point of method, 
false to the true origin of our most essential ideas, replete 
with solecisms and contradictions, and always, of course, 
inclining too much to the sensuous. 

Cousin supposes, not without reason, that the extreme 
doctrine of Locke, on the one hand, led to the extreme 
doctrine of Condillac, on the other. Assuming to take the 

* " That is called transcendental, which surpasses the limits of sensible 
or empirical knowledge, and expatiates in the region of pure thought or 
absolute science. It is therefore truly scientific; and it serves to explain 
empirical truths so far forth as they were explicable. On the other hand, 
that is called transcendent, which not only goes beyond empiricism, but 
surpasses the boundaries of human knowledge. It expatiates in the 
shadowy region of imaginary truth. It is therefore falsely called science ; 
it is the opposite of true philosophy." Murdoch's Modern Philosophy, p. 
168. The terms are however now used indiscriminately, or rather only 
the term transcendental is used, and is applied to all those whose funda- 
mental views are of the rational school. Hence Jacobi, Fichte, Hegel, 
Schelling, Ranch, and Coleridge, are alike with Kant usually called 
transcendentalists, although differing from him and from each other, in 
more or less of the particulars formerly indicated by these several terms. 



THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 399 

neutral stand, his antagonism with the errors of the English 
school become so earnest, and that with the German school 
so feeble, that he unconsciously falls quite into the arms of 
the latter. 

He accuses Locke of beginning at the wrong point — the 
origin of ideas — instead of beginning with the psychological 
facts ; that is, the phenomena of mind, in its mature state. 
He therefore begins with psychology, reasoning, a posteriori, 
from facts to causes ; and ends with reasoning, a priori, 
from causes to facts. He thus, in a measure, confounds the 
methods of the metaphysical and of the empirical schools. 

Cousin considers reason a general, not a personal attribute. 
All men have one and the same reason, of which they are 
at liberty to avail themselves. He does not professedly 
admit the theory of innate ideas, and indeed denies that 
any writers ever really held it, as understood by Locke ; 
but, in his philosophizing, he virtually maintains all that the 
theory has been assumed to maintain. Supposing that 
reason is not personal to man, but the same in man as in 
God, by the very constitution of our minds — that is, by 
virtue of what is original to our reason — we must of course, 
in so far as we have this divine endowment, view things as 
God views them. The principles of knowledge are then 
inherent and original with the human mind. 

This is not the same as maintaining that the mind is so 
constituted as to admit certain first truths when presented 
to it, — which is a principle of the British school ; — it is 
maintaining that the mind itself spontaneously produces 
them, from its innate furniture, — which is a principle of 
the German school. 

Among the original ideas of reason, Cousin places those 
of space, time, infinity, substance, cause, good and evil, 
and the essential and absolute generally. As the writings 
of this philosopher are now extensively read, I do not deem 
it best to occupy our limited space with a particular notice 
of them. They are in easy modern French, written in 
flowing and rather careless style. Among many fine original 
thoughts, the reader finds some absurd and extravagant 
ones, and not a few specimens of loose and incoherent 



400 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

reasoning. As a whole, however, to all who are fond of 
philosophical studies, and can think for themselves, they are 
both interesting and instructive. Those who do not embrace 
his views, will at least honor his industry, learning, and 
genius, and will be delighted with the easy and prompt way 
in which he speaks out his mind. To those not familiar 
with the French, his Elements of Psychology, translated by 
Dr. Henry, of New York, will be found a valuable substitute 
for his original writings at large. 

We have thus glanced at the leading peculiarities and 
advocates of the German school of philosophy. That its 
general tendency is to displace the teachings of revealed 
religion, to give undue exaltation to human reason, to 
feed the fires of vanity, and to substitute, for the one 
living and personal Jehovah, the dreams of A PAGAN 
pantheism, facts have abundantly proved. Yet these facts 
ought not to bear unkindly upon the men, who have espoused 
and advocated this philosophy. It is a wise and just maxim, 
that men ought not to be held responsible for the conse- 
quences of their doctrines, when they do not intend and 
cannot foresee them. Among the philosophers of this 
school, are some of the richest thinkers, the purest spirits, 
and the brightest ornaments of humanity. Besides, the 
philosophy itself embodies many of the loftiest truths and 
noblest sentiments within the range of the human intellect. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXVI. 

The father of this school ? What is said of him and Aristotle ? Des 
Cartes? His philosophy ? Spinoza? Peculiarities of his philosophy ? 
Malebranche ? His views ? His character ? What is said of Leibnitz ? 
Of him and Locke in connection ? What did he propose to do ? Where- 
in did he differ from Des Cartes ? What was the success of his philoso- 
phy? Who expounded and defended it? What can you say of Wolf? 



QUESTIONS. 401 

When was Kant born ? What is said of him ? What distinctions does 
he make in philosophy ? Effects of Kant's writings ? Mention other 
writers of this school. Definition of transcendental in the note ? "What is 



said of Cousin ? Of his philosophy ? "What does he think of Bacon ? 
Locke. &c. ? How does he consider reason ! Mention some of the 
original ideas of reason. Tendencies of the German philosophy ? Ee- 
niark ! 



34* 






CHAPTER XXXVII 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 



Aristotle, the ancient founder of this great school, was 
born at Stagira, 384 years before Christ. Inheriting a 
fortune, it was his early ambition to devote his life and 
means to philosophical studies. At the age of seventeen, 
he commenced attendance on the instructions of Plato, at 
Athens. The brilliancy of his genius soon outshone that of 
all his associates ; insomuch that Plato considered him the 
intellect of his school. He continued to prosecute his 
studies with Plato twenty years, deaf alike to the calls of 
pleasure and of courtly ambition. On the death of Plato, 
he was by Philip chosen preceptor of his son Alexander, 
which office he discharged eight years, until his pupil's 
accession to the throne. He was of a spare habit, ate and 
slept but little, was retiring and simple in his manners, and 
was wholly devoted to study. 

An alienation of feeling is said to have arisen between 
Aristotle and Plato, towards the latter part of Plato's life ; 
owing to their different philosophical views. Aristotle had 
the boldness to institute a new theory, and enter upon a new 
track of thought. This awakened the jealousy of Plato ; 
who became subsequently as bitter towards him, as he had 
previously been friendly. It is hoped, for the honor of 
philosophy, that this is not true ; although the current 
developments of human nature look very much as though it 
may be. 

The writings of Aristotle have sometimes been compared 
with those of Plato ; but they are really very unlike them. 
The writings of Plato are characterized by glowing imagina- 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 403 

tion and embellishment of style, while those of Aristotle are 
remarkable for their simplicity. " The philosopher of 
Stagira," says his biographer, " studied nature more than 
art, and had recourse to simplicity of expression more than 
ornament." 

Aristotle died at the age of sixty-three. His writings, in 
chaste and classic Greek, are many of them read, with ease 
and advantage, by most scholars. Persons not familiar with 
the Greek language, are favored with translations of this 
great philosopher's works, in every form and variety. 

Aristotle's Logic reigned in the schools, for many centu- 
ries ; but it has yielded to modes of reasoning characterized 
by greater simplicity. The ascendency which his philosophy 
early obtained, it has continued to hold, in various degrees, 
down to the present day. 



FRANCIS BACON. 






Although the Aristotelian philosophy held the ascendency, 
yet it made little progress during the dark ages, and even 
down to the time of Francis Bacon. This was the begin- 
ning of the seventeenth century. Philosophers had general- 
ized too hastily, relying on few facts and first impressions, 
thus foreclosing the inlets of sound knowledge. Lord Bacon 
published his Chart of the Sciences, and New Method of 
pursuing them, in 1620. In these he sets forth, in strong 
light, the importance of very careful observation and experi- 
ment, as the only true basis of scientific conclusions. His 
writings gave a new impulse to the Inductive school, and 
led the way to vast and sure accessions of philosophical 
knowledge. 

He was the first to set aside the Aristotelian logic of the 
schools, and to institute methods of arriving at truth more 
simple and satisfactory. Of the same philosophical school 
with Aristotle, as to the principle that all knowledge is 
acquired, rather than innate, he yet took more direct 
methods to obtain it. 

" Retiring as he did from the court and the senate-house 
into his study, from the busy scenes of political life to the 



404 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

pursuit of philosophical truth, he could hardly fail of becom- 
ing more and more convinced of the practical uselessness of 
the scholastic logic to a mind that requires sagacity in seiz- 
ing analogies, and needs experience in collecting facts. He 
saw that in ordinary cases, where we have to deal with 
mankind, the keenest logic could not supply the place of 
accurate observation ; and proceeded, with that comprehen- 
siveness of mind for which he was remarkable, to generalize 
his views, until he evolved the conclusion that pure scientific 
knowledge, as well as all other of a more ordinary and prac- 
tical kind, must take its start from a diligent observation of 
facts."* 

By the " inductive method," is meant a careful observa- 
tion of facts in their relations to each other, as constituting 
genera and species, and contemplating them in view of the 
great central truth, that, under similar circumstances, the 
same causes will uniformly produce the same results. Thus 
from a comparatively few observations, carefully made, wide 
conclusions may be drawn. But to render our conclusions 
both ample and certain, they must be ultimately verified by 
extended observation, and by facts gathered from every 
department in nature. The mind thus rises, by a gradual 
and sure ascent, from facts to principles, and from specific 
principles to general laws.* 

Lord Bacon was to the British school what Des Cartes 
was to the German. Both were leading minds ; both were 
great ; both thought profoundly and earnestly ; the one 
after the English fashion, the other after the German. 
Bacon put forth all his energies to examine and to prove ; 
Des Cartes fell back upon the inborn ideas of his own mind, 
to contemplate and to reason. Bacon 'proved all things, and 
held fast that which is good ; Des Cartes thought he knew 
by virtue of d priori principles, hence he sometimes held the 

* Morelle's History of Philosophy, p. 65. 

t"Diuevia3 sunt, atquc esse possunt ad inquirendum et iveniendam 
veritatem. Altera a sensu et particularibus advolat ad axiomatamaxime 
generalia, atque exiis principiis corumquc immota veritate judicat, et 
invenit axiomata media ; atque base via in usu est. Altera a sensu et par- 
ticularibus excitat axiomata ascendendo continentcr et gradatim, ut ultimo 
loco perveniatur ad maxima generalia, qua; via vera est scd intentata." 
Nor. Org. 1 Aph. 61. Quoted also by Morelle, p. 67. 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 405 

true and the false together. Nor did Bacon limit his 
method of investigation to the outward world ; — he contem- 
plated their ultimate application to all the phenomena of 
mind. That he, in some respects, carried his views to 
extremes ; and that he came short, in others, of setting 
sufficiently forth all the considerations that bear upon the 
investigation of subjective philosophy, is freely admitted ; — 
but although Cousin ascribes to him the first aberration from 
the true philosophical method, I cannot but think the time 
far off, when the great voice of British and American intellect 
will agree with him. 



John Locke. 

It was in 1698, that this great philosopher issued his 
renowned Essay on the Human Understanding. It is 
said to have almost annihilated what then remained of the 
Platonic philosophy in Great Britain, and to have brought 
it into extensive disrepute, or greatly to have modified it, in 
many parts of the continent, especially in France. 

As so much has been said of this philosopher on our 
former pages, a few words here will suffice. The leading 
doctrine of his Essay is, that the mind has no innate ideas, 
— that all its knowledge is acquired, by sensation and reflec- 
tion. Our knowledge comes, first, in the form of ideas 
received through the organs of sense, and, secondly, by the 
reflections awakened in the mind by these sensuous ideas. 
Maintaining the objective reality of knowledge, Locke sup- 
poses all our ideas to be either simple or complex, — the 
former being derived directly from sensation and reflection, 
the latter being compounded of simple ideas by the un- 
derstanding. When these ideas are legitimate, they 
correspond exactly with the object, which they are sup- 
posed to represent. By this is meant, that when a person 
has what Locke calls an adequate idea of an object, that 
object really is what it appears to him to be. To per- 
sons not conversant with the ancient theory of ideas, this 
seems little short of a truism ; and yet volumes have been 
written on this single debated point. 



408 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



SCEPTICAL RESULTS. 

Locke's Essay was intended for a protest, not only against 
the objective philosophy of the scholastic ages, but also 
against the current a priori reasonings of the continent, 
which were flooding the schools with error. It was intended 
to make the mind humble and cautious, in its search for 
truth ; and to summon it forth from the little world of bright 
dreams and pleasant fancies, of its own creation, to the sober 
task of proving the realities of the world that God had made. 
It has therefore more to do with the sensational than with 
the rational ; more with the understanding, as empiricising 
by the senses, than with the reason, as operating by virtue 
of its unaided intuitions. That Locke never taught an 
exclusive sensational philosophy, that he as truly made the 
world within the subjective matter, as he did the world 
without the objective matter, of philosophy ; and that he 
designed ample scope to all the legitimate intuitions and 
spontaneous teachings of the mind, — has been shown on 
former pages. 

But some of Locke's followers laid an exclusive hold on 
the sensational part ; and as his philosophy was strictly induc- 
tive, cautious, distrustful, admitting nothing without proof, 
it tended in them to produce scepticism. As pupils are 
wont to go beyond their teacher, when they deviate from 
the right path, some of this school pushed off to avowed 
scepticism or deism. In this list, the names of Hume, 
Collins, Shaftsbury, Bolingbroke, Gibbon, and others, are 
familiar to all. Among the French, are Voltaire, Rousseau, 
Buffon, Condorcet, D'Alembert, Diderot, and others of less 
note. Some passed on to materialism; of whom were 
Shaftsbury and Priestly, of the English, and De la Mettrie 
and Helvetius, of the French. Others went quite over to 
avowed atheism. 

It has been already said, that Morelle would not have 
laid the blame of this at the door of John Locke, had he not 
been misled by Cousin, in making hira an exclusive sensa- 
tionalist. For Morelle's views, in regard to the necessity of 
combining the two elements — the sensational and the 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 407 

ideal — are in the main excellent ; and the following sen- 
tence, with slight modifications, so well expresses my own 
views, that I am induced to insert it in this connection. 
" The whole process of sensation, we are conscious, is pas- 
sive ; the moment, therefore, we attempt, like Conclillac, to 
reduce all our notions to different species of transformed 
sensations, we virtually deny the liberty or energy of the 
mind, and make humanity itself but an ingenious piece of 
mechanism, which is moved hither and thither by forces 
impressed upon it from the outward world. Human freedom 
accordingly perishes under the hands of a bold sensational- 
ism. Nor is it alone the moral nature which is stripped of 
its grandeur by these principles — the foundations of truth 
itself are likewise undermined, and the road to scepticism 
prepared. Knowledge, which comes to us simply through 
our sensations, can have nothing fixed and absolute about it. 
Its truth must be relative to the construction of our mate- 
rial organs, and can never attain to a necessary and universal 
character. In other words, there can be no such thing as 
truth, which may not at some time prove error ; so that the 
whole framework of our knowledge is rendered insecure." 
This last clause needs qualifying. 

" Idealism, on the contrary, leads us just as far from the 
truth in the other direction. Neglecting the peculiar ele- 
ment which exists in all our perceptions, and by which we 
are inseparably linked to the material world, it first of all 
attempts to deduce the notion of matter by a logical process 
from our purely rational ideas ; failing, however, to afford 
satisfaction by this process, it begins to undermine the reality 
of the notion itself, and ends at length in its positive denial. 
Both sensationalism, therefore, and idealism, when exclu- 
sively pursued and developed to their furthest results, lead 
us into a labyrinth of error from which it appears impossible 
for any philosophy to extricate us ; they both give us the 
thread by which we may enter into the very centre of the 
metaphysical maze, but having conducted us there, they snap 
it asunder, and leave us in perplexity which way to turn, 
in order to retrace our steps. The consequence infallibly is, 
that philosophy becomes distrusted, that the conclusions of 
reason are set at naught, and a boastful scepticism is engen- 



408 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 

dered, which magnifies itself against all science, and builds 
itself up upon the metaphysical errors which it can deride, 
but not correct." * 

The friends of Christianity became alarmed at the results 
of the prevailing philosophy, and naturally concluded that 
either there must be something wrong in the philosophy 
itself, or that it had been misapprehended in some material 
point. They did not strike for a divorce of Christianity, 
but for a revision of philosophy. 



BISHOP BERKELEY. 

Among the attempts to revise philosophy, that of Bishop 
Berkeley is most conspicuous. As an offset to the writings 
of Priestly, who had virtually annihilated the soul, having 
reduced all mental phenomena to modifications of sensation, 
the learned bishop published a book, in which he maintained 
that God himself is the immediate cause of all our sensa- 
tions.! What we call material objects being, as he sup- 
posed, the results of our sensations, and not their causes, 
he considered it most rational to conclude that they exist 
only in our minds. £ In his view, as God was to be 
regarded as the direct efficient cause of our sensations, he 
could as well produce them without any external objects as 
with them ; all that was necessary was, to produce in us the 
idea of them, in order to make us realize them, as truly as 
though they did actually exist. 

The excellent bishop thought, that by thus improving 
upon the current philosophy, he should banish infidelity, 
recall the soul, and place it again under the benignant care 
of its Maker. Of the two errors — that of Priestly and that 
of Berkeley — if we must have either, we should not hesitate 
to take the latter ; but we may congratulate ourselves that 

* History of Philosophy, p. 191, 192. 

t See the Works of George Berkeley, D. D., Bishop of Cloync, &c. 
London edition, 1837. 

| As, according to this theory, objects have no existence excepting in 
ideas, those who embraced it were sometimes called idealists. 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 409 

a more generous philosophy easts us upon neither alterna- 
tive. We are privileged to enjoy both the material and the 
mental world, embraced alike in the ample arms of Chris- 
tianity. 



THOMAS HELD. 

A strange mingling of faith and scepticism, in respect 
both to philosophy and religion, pervaded the English and 
many of the continental institutions, at the time Thomas 
Held appeared, to confute the scepticism of Hume on the 
one hand, the idealism of Berkeley, on the other, and to 
restore harmonious confidence in philosophy as by him 
expounded, in its relations both to natural and revealed 
truth. He was born in 1710, not far from Aberdeen, in 
Scotland, and became professor of Moral Philosophy in the 
University of Glasgow. 

This may be called the era of common sense. She was 
called in, by this excellent philosopher, to curb ultra tenden- 
cies in either direction, and to serve as a standard of ulti- 
mate appeal. What he called common sense, is in fact 
much the same as what we designate by spontaneous intui- 
tions. His main force seems to have been directed against 
the representative theory, so called — that is, the theory of 
intervening ideas between the mind and objects viewed; 
and he succeeded in clearly expounding the doctrine of 
immediate and direct perception. The truth is, as I have 
stated on former pages, that ideas are results, not means, 
of perception. 

Reid was not so remarkable for originality, as for good 
sense. In several instances, however, his usually good 
sense fails him ; as if to impress upon us the time honored 
maxim, that even wise men are not always wise. His 
writings are classics in mental science, and have contri- 
buted an enviable share towards advancing the interests of 
sound knowledge. In point of style, they are among the 
finest models of philosophical composition in the English, — 
lucid, simple, chaste. 

Beattie, and others, followed in his track, adding some- 
35 



410 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



thing to his views. These writers did not allow any fellow- 
ship with the Platonic theory of innate ideas, yet they placed 
great confidence in the instinctive promptings of our nature, 
to correct errors incidental to philosophical speculations. 
This is certainly a very convenient method of disposing of 
difficult points ; whether it is always fair, or in the highest 
degree honorable to the intellect of him who adopts it, is 
another question. However this may be, the writers in 
question proceeded on the assumption, that the sober 
dictates of common sense are often more trustworthy, than 
the results of the most accurate philosophical reasoning. 
There was a truth in the thought, but it stood too much 
alone. That philosophy and common sense should ever 
seem to be at variance, argued something still to be learned ; 
for, when rightly expounded, their teachings must always 
agree. 

DUGALD STEWART. 

Some French writers, such as Condillac, Bonnet, and 
others, did something in the way of disabusing, expounding, 
and improving the philosophy of Locke ; but it remained 
mostly for Dugald Stewart to elaborate, and in a measure 
re-construct the entire system, on the essential Baconian 
basis. Without the highest pretensions to originality, by 
his candor, his great good sense, and his extensive and 
profound learning, to say nothing of the elegance of his 
style, he claims a rank among the first philosophical writers 
in our language. His books are among the best classics in 
the schools of Britain and America. If we are constrained 
sometimes to dissent from his positions, or to point out 
inaccuracies and contradictions in his statements and reason- 
ings, we must remember that the soundest thinkers some- 
times err, and that no man is so wise as not to leave 
something to be done. 

Dugald Stewart was born in 1753. He was at first 
professor of mathematics, afterwards of moral philosophy, 
in the University of Edinburgh. " Respecting Stewart's 
ability as a writer, there never has been," says Morelle, 
" so far as I know, but one opinion, and that decidedly 



_ 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 411 

favorable. His reading upon all metaphysical subjects, 
(with the exception of the more modern German philoso- 
phy,) appeared to be almost as extensive as the literature 
itself ; his judgment upon the merits of the different authors 
was, for the mosb part, clear and comprehensive. His own 
mind exhibited all the traces of the scholar and the man of 
taste, while his easy and attractive style seemed to throw a 
charm and an interest around the most abstruse and forbid- 
ding subjects. There can be little doubt but that the Scot- 
tish metaphysics, while they derived their bone and sinew 
from Dr. Reid, yet owed to the labors of his successor all 
that mould and system, that order and beauty, which have 
given them a popularity greater than any philosophical 
treatises in the English language, which have appeared in 
modern times." * 



THOMAS BROWN. 

Of the same philosophical school and of the same univer- 
sity, was Thomas Brown. He was born in 1778, and, 
having received a liberal education in England, entered, 
while young upon the studies of the University of Edin- 
burgh. He commenced the study of moral philosophy under 
Dugald Stewart, at the age of sixteen, and soon evinced 
great acuteness in the investigation of metaphysical subjects. 
He became colleague professor with Stewart in 1810, and 
died in 1820 ; " beloved by many, regretted by all, in the 
very ascendency of his genius and reputation." 

In Brown we scarcely know which most to admire, the 
originality of his method, the boldness of his speculations, or 
the luxuriance and splendor of his diction. Proceeding on 
the essential Baconian basis, he yet carried the process of 
simplification to a great extent, proposed new theories — 
especially in relation to cause and effect — struck out 
new thoughts, and made some actual advances in the science 
of mind. His writings are by no means a substitute for 
those of Locke, Reid, and Stewart, but a valuable accom- 
paniment. 

* History of Philosophy, p. 366. 



412 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



OTHER WRITERS. 

Neither our space nor object admit the notice of all 
the writers who have contributed, in some form, to this 
school. One of the greatest of human productions — 
Butler's Analogy — is at once a debtor to this school for its 
origin, and a contributor to its intellectual wealth. Among 
the most noted of the ultra sensationalists, were Hartley, 
Priestly, and Darwin. 

In quite recent times, the name of John Stuart Mill 
has become considerably known in England, in connection 
with a work by him, entitled, " A System of Logic, Ratio- 
cinativi and Inductive," — a work of no ordinary merit. 
The writings of Abercrombie are in most of our schools. 
Many valuable contributions to mental science have been 
made by distinguished writers in our own country, whose 
names need not here be mentioned. 



present state of this school. 

Although the distinguishing peculiarities of the two great 
leading philosophical schools is traced down through all 
ages, yet each has had its mutations, and many interchanges 
have been made between them. The Aristotelian school is 
not now just what it was under the teaching of Aristotle, or 
Bacon, or Locke. Although still as severely inductive as 
ever, it is yet more idealistic, more rational, and less sensa- 
tional. It has made an approximation towards the rational 
school ; it has taken from that school some valuable truths ; 
without, however, compromising its own fundamental princi- 
ples. In its present improved condition, it is at once a 
proud monument of Anglo-Saxon thinking, and a noble 
tower of defence against the infidelity resulting from an 
overweening rationalism on the one hand, and an exclusive 
sensationalism on the other. In the natural sciences, it is 
now triumphant over all the educated world. In the 
departments of mental science, it holds the ascendency in 



THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 413 

Great Britain and America, and has extensive sway over 
the continent. There are, however, many in England and 
America, who sympathize with the German school ; and on 
the continent its disciples are yet numerous. 

The British philosophy has become incorporated with the 
classical writings of our language upon physical and medical 
science, physiology, natural theology, ethics, civil polity, the 
laws of nations. What is most important, its affinity with 
the Christian religion has been practically demonstrated ; 
and in its present improved state, it is found to be a safe 
depositary of revealed truth. It serves to hold the mind in 
that posture of calm and patient inquiry, which, with proper 
guidance, conducts to sound knowledge in all departments, 
both human and divine. Yet philosophers have ordinarily 
stood too far apart from Christianity. They have fixed their 
stand-point too low, in the earth. If philosophy begins with 
the earthly, she ought not to end there. She ought to aim 
heaven-high. All sound systems of philosophy are parts of 
Christianity, as all mountains, valleys, rivers, are parts of 
our globe. Nor is any philosophic system but partially 
developed, until its relations to revealed religion are clearly 
shown. 



QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Ancient founder of this school? "What is said of him ? What of him 
and Plato in connection ? With whose writings have those of Aristotle 
been compared ? What is said of the success of his philosophy 1 What 
is said of Bacon 1 At what time did he publish 1 What was he the first 
to do i What is meant by the inductive method 1 What is needful to 
render it sure and comprehensive ? Lord Bacon and Des Cartes com- 
pared ? What does Cousin ascribe to him ? What does the reader think 
of this ? When did Locke issue his famous Essay 1 What is said of it ? 
Its leading doctrine ? Sceptical results ? Did Locke teach an exclusive 
sensationalism 1 What is said of some of his followers 1 Remarks and 



QUESTIONS. 414 

quotation 1 What did the friends of Christianity % Berkely ? His 
philosophical views ? What did the Bishop hope to accomplish 1 Re- 
mark ? State of things when Reid appeared 1 When was this % What 
may this era be called % What is said of it ? What was Reid's main 
force directed against ? Did he succeed ? For what was he most remark- 
able ? Beattie ? Remarks ? Dugald Stewart ? What is said of his 
writings ? Brown ? His philosophy, &c. Other writers ? Present state 
of this school ? With what has this philosophy become incorporated ? 
What, in its present improved state, is it found to be ? What does it 
serve to do ? Remark ? 



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